The Murtlap Thief and the Half-Blood Prince
by RainCityWriter
Summary: This is a continuation of the story began in The Murtlap Thief, but it can be read stand-alone as well. This is the story of sixth year, and Snape is attempting to get guardianship of Harry after they have developed a level of trust in the previous book. AU but with a lot of canon compliance. Warnings: Sirius is alive, story contains parental spanking. No slash, no pairings.
1. Chapter 1 - Dodging Trouble

_**AN:** Welcome (back) to the world of The Murtlap Thief! This story is a sequel to The Murtlap Thief, but it can also be read on its own if you wish. The Murtlap Thief is set in the world of the fifth book, and Harry is caught trying to steal Murtlap from Snape's potions stores after a bout with Umbridge's quill. After being punished by the irate potions master, Harry and Snape develop a rapport which eventually brings down the evil Professor Umbridge. Upon some revelations of abuse in the hands of the Dursleys, Snape also feels compelled to offer to be Harry's guardian, which Harry accepts. This book is set three months later, starting at the end of June. I welcome and encourage reviews, comments, encouragement, ideas, and criticism. I answer many of the reviews that I get and value developing a relationship with readers. Comments that are abusive towards the author however will be summarily deleted without a second thought._

 _ **Disclaimers:** I am not JK Rowling, nor do I own any of the familiar characters. I will not give chapter headings as to this fact, I think we can all assume that I won't own these characters at any point in this story. Also, this story will likely contain the parental spanking of a teenager, so if that bothers you please don't read my story or at least skip that part. _

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Harry looked into Snape's cold, angry face and shivered in fear. He had made it a study on how to avoid the ire of the man he had hoped to be his guardian, but he knew he had really stepped in it this time. He had a really bad feeling that this was going to end badly, and probably with him on the business end of a paddle. Since the time he had paddled him for peeking in the pensieve Snape had not taken a paddle to him, but by the look on his face he could see that was his intention.

"Let me see if I have this correct," Snape intoned, visibly trying to calm himself. "You accepted a ride from someone that you had never met at home in order not to bother me?"

"I did," Harry replied, licking his lips.

"That is a lie," Snape told him, his voice dripping with fury. "And you have risked your life for frivolous reasons."

"We are in the suburbs!" Harry protested. "What danger could there have been?"

"What if that friendly neighbor offering you a ride had been a death eater in disguise?" Snape asked, his voice sharp.

"Then I would have been in danger," Harry admitted, looking down. "I hadn't thought about that."

"Did no one ever tell you it was dangerous to accept rides from strangers?" he asked, towering over Harry.

"Not really," Harry admitted with chagrin. "The Dursleys only cared that I didn't bother them too much. I'm sorry, professor, I didn't think about the danger. I truly was trying to to save you the bother."

Snape gazed at the boy, assessing. He felt his fury fade, he realized that it wasn't an act of willful disobedience, but rather of expediency. He realized that fear had been fueling his fury more than anything else, and having the boy unharmed in front of him did a lot to lower that fear. But he still needed to know that the child would not do anything so foolish again.

"I wonder how we should make sure that this won't happen again?" Snape asked, his voice still low and threatening but ever so slightly lighter.

Harry, picking up on the change of tone, smiled disarmingly. "A good beating always works. So is the cane or perhaps being chopped up for potion ingredients?" he asked.

"Don't be cheeky," Snape growled, but with a smirk. "You are far too skinny to make good potion ingredients. And a few stripes with the cane would do you some good."

"Probably," Harry agreed, feeling relieved. If Snape smirked, the chance of him getting spanked was a lot less. "So should I go bend over a desk somewhere? But I'd advise you to not leave any marks that could cause the ministry to deny your guardianship."

"Cheeky brat," he said, but without passion. "You don't know how unpopular you are at the Ministry. Some bruises or stripes might clinch it for me."

"If that's true, by all means apply a few," Harry smirked. "Anything to end the waiting."

"They did let you stay with me this summer," Snape drawled. "Perhaps they were thinking I might change my mind after some quality time with you."

"Maybe," Harry agreed, feeling pretty assured he wasn't getting punished. He had definitely developed a rapport with Snape over the past few months, but he still worried if the man was going to eventually either brutalize him or decide he was done being his guardian. But, unbelievably, the man had done neither. He had even become, well, if not exactly loving and warm at least sort of . . . friendly. Less intimidating.

"But in all seriousness, if you ever take a ride from someone else, anyone else, without my permission I will see that as officially endangering your life. You understand what I mean?"

"The paddle," Harry nodded solemnly. "I understand."

"You will be thankful if it is just the paddle," Snape told him darkly.

"I understand," Harry nodded soberly.

"Then we will chalk this up to another unfortunate Dursley side effect for now," Snape nodded. "Like how you felt like you had to prepare every meal and clean everything every day. I feel like we need to have a review of basic human safety. You are remarkably unprepared."

"Most of the preparation they gave me was in how to be a house elf," Harry smirked. It made it easier to joke about it.

"Then I would assume you to keep your room tidier," Snape admonished. "I have specifically instructed Botters not to pick up after you, and I think your room is going to give her a nervous breakdown."

"I'll work on it," Harry agreed. "I'm sorry, I'll work on being more organized. I've just never had, you know, enough stuff to really make a mess."

"Hmmph," Snape replied enigmatically. He was trying to appear stern, but in reality he wondered at how much his heart had softened for this ridiculous Gryffindor boy. Lily's son. And in some ways it was good to see the boy be a little messy - it was a far cry from how he had nervously tried to clean everything when they first arrived at his home. "See that you do it before you go flying this evening."

Harry nodded. "So you haven't heard anything else from the ministry?" he asked.

Snape gave his head a small shake, and saw the boy's shoulders hunch. "You know that I think no news is actually good," Snape told him. "The longer you are in my custody the better. It's not that long until you are seventeen, after all."

"What do you think the delay is?" Harry asked. He knew that guardianships like this were often granted within a week or two at most, especially given that Harry was nearly sixteen, and only a year from the age of majority. They had applied three months ago, right after Snape had made the offer.

"I am not sure," Snape answered carefully. He actually had some good ideas as to what the delay was, but did not want to trouble Harry with the information. Dumbledore, after all, was one of the men that Harry looked up to the most. He didn't want to shatter that without reason. "I am investigating why it is."

"You're right, at least I'm here for the summer."

"With the evidence of abuse you so bravely supplied they would not have been able to deny you," Snape told him firmly. "If the Dursleys were wizards and subject to our laws, they would have been arrested."

Harry squirmed, feeling uncomfortable. Discussions about the Dursleys always made him feel that way, as if it had been his fault. "They weren't that bad . . ." Harry started, his voice sounding young.

"They were," Snape replied firmly. "I saw the memories. You did nothing to deserve such treatment, Harry."

Harry blushed and looked away. It always warmed him to hear Snape use his first name, and hearing Snape assure him always felt good too. Nine months ago he would have thought Snape would have been cheering the Dursleys on, not adamantly insisting that what they did had been wrong. In his head Harry knew that they were wrong, but it took a lot longer to actually believe it.

Snape raised his hand, and even though Harry knew the man would not hit him like that he still flinched. Snape, pretending to ignore the flinch, continued his intention and placed his hand firmly on Harry's shoulder. He patted in what he hoped was a reassuring way, he did not have much experience with this.

Snape could have continued to reassure him, but he thought of something different instead. "Sometimes you look so much like your mother that I hardly know what to say," he told Harry.

"You had said you were friends," Harry encouraged, feeling the reassurance from the shoulder pat.

"We were friends as children," Snape told him. "You knew that. She was my only friend, truth be told, until we went to Hogwarts."

"I know Petunia was her sister," Harry nodded. "Were their parents nice?"

"Nice enough, I suppose," Snape told him. "I'm not sure why Petunia ended up so . . . well, so horrible to you. She was a jealous and spiteful child, but most people grow out of that. She, apparently, did not."

"Was my mother anything like her?"

"No," Snape answered firmly. "I mean, there is some iota of physical resemblance, but little else. Just because they are sisters does not mean that they are alike as people. No, you would have been very happy being raised by Lily."

"I know James was awful to you . . ." Harry stammered, blushing at the memory both of him peeking in the pensieve and of what he had seen there.

"You saw an immature adolescent at his worse," Snape told him softly, pushing down his sense of betrayal that surfaced again of Harry breaking his trust. Reminding himself that the boy had paid enough for that particular transgression, he capitulated. "James Potter grew up. He was quite brave in his work with the Order and I believe he was a good and loving husband and father. I believe you would have enjoyed being raised by him as well."

"I really appreciated the memories you showed me of them," Harry told Snape, not meeting his eye. "But I can't help having questions."

"Of course, it's perfectly natural," Snape replied, hoping that it was true. What did he know of normal?

"Am I, well . . .?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"Am I like her?" he asked, not looking up.

"Yes," Snape answered firmly. "You are also like your father as well, but I see many traits that remind me of Lily. Pity a talent for potions isn't one of them."

Harry smiled at the dig. "Well, at least this next year you don't have to deal with me in Potions. I'm better in Defense."

"We shall see," Snape sniffed without commitment. "Your Defense training has been spotty at best, so we shall see what happens when you have a competent teacher. And one that isn't named Harry Potter."

Harry flushed. "Even you have to admit that the Defense club worked," Harry told him. "Thanks to all the help you gave us."

"I suppose," Snape sniffed. "I think if Dumbledore is successful in convincing Professor Slughorn from coming out of retirement you will not find him to be too easy of a Potions Master."

"He was your Potions Master, wasn't he?" Harry asked.

"He was," Snape confirmed. "And my head of house. I never fell in with his 'in-crowd' but I did well enough. He recognized me as good at potions, but not of good social standing. He was quite fond of your mother."

"My mother?"

"Yes, I believe she was one of his favorites," Snape mused. "Oh, and speaking of favorites, Dumbledore wanted to check on you. Presumably it is to make sure I'm not beating you more than necessary. Perhaps next week."

"Maybe I could see him on my birthday," Harry smiled. "It would make the day fun."

"Having a check in with Dumbledore on your birthday is fun?" Snape asked, but then nodded. He would have considered anything fun to acknowledge his birthday as well. "Perhaps you can spend part of the day with your dogfather as well. I'll contact Lupin."

"That would be great!" Harry smiled broadly. "But would you be okay with being there?"

"I see him for Order business, Potter," Snape told him smoothly. "I can see him long enough to drop you off."

"You wouldn't be . . . staying?" Harry asked, uncertain.

Snape frowned, wondering what the boy was getting at. Did he actually want Snape there?

"I would have thought you would want to have time alone with him," Snape told Harry in a softer tone. "He is your Godfather, it must be difficult not to live with him."

Harry knew what Snape was saying, but he didn't know how to say what he wanted to say. He wanted to say that he liked Sirius, but he knew he was in no place to have Harry stay with him. He wanted to say how much he appreciated that Snape had stepped up for him, and how much he was growing to like the man. And he also wanted to say that he didn't like a birthday plan that would mean he was separated from him for the majority of the day. Birthdays had never been a big deal to him, and had been barely acknowledged by his family, let alone celebrated. He wanted to say that he hoped this year would be different.

Instead, Harry replied, "I'm surprised you'd leave me alone in that next of Gryffindors. Won't they undo all of your teachings?"

Snape smiled in amusement, and watched the boy carefully. Yes, it seemed as if the boy wanted him to go. Did he actually want to socialize with these people? They were work colleagues and Order colleagues, but he rarely socialized. But this could also be the perfect way to confront Dumbledore about the guardianship. He was unlikely to deny what the boy asked for face to face.

"Perhaps if we invite a few others to distract me I would be willing to stay for a short while," Snape answered, as if hesitant. "I can stand the company of your head of house, and I find Arthur Weasley tolerable. Perhaps I will see if Lupin is capable of arranging something of a small party."

"That would be brilliant!" Harry agreed, his smile broad.

"I suppose I will see what can be done then," Snape answered, sniffing a bit. "From what I understand a gift is traditional on one's birthday from one's guardian, was there anything in particular you wanted?"

"You've given me so much already," Harry answered, looking away. "New clothes, my own room, good food to eat . . . I can't ask for anything more, Sir."

"Then you will leave me to my own devices," Snape told him, his dark eyes flashing with humor. "Pickled Murtlap it is."

"Essence of Murtlap works better," Harry shot back, smirking. "And I believe we've gotten rid of that source of injury to myself."

"I have some nice Skrewt spleens," Snape continued. "Dead useful for hemorrhoid cures. Perhaps I could just brew it for you myself . . ."

"All right!" Harry exclaimed, laughing. "I have always wanted one of those fancy wand holsters that flip out on command. And anything to do with Quidditch is brilliant."

Snape nodded, satisfied. "Perhaps we should invite that Miss Granger as well. At least she encourages academic pursuits."

"I don't know what to say," Harry answered, looking away.

"I'm sure it will come to you later," Snape told him briskly. "But for now, I believe you haven't completed your summer homework. Get to it."


	2. Chapter 2 - Sirius Partying

AN: Thank you so much for all the great reviews! I feel so fortunate that people are enjoying my story so much. I hope you enjoy this next installment.

Snape hated parties. He couldn't remember a single party that he had enjoyed attending, and this one was no exception. He was here for business purposes, and that is what he would focus on. He would definitely not enjoy himself, and he would merely set Dumbledore up for an uncomfortable encounter with his ward. Harry should be able to do the rest, if he was right on how strongly the boy felt. If Dumbledore seemed reluctant, he had several ways to either ingratiate himself to the headmaster or to invoke his sympathy. Pushing away the niggling doubts on why the lad would want to be his ward, he focused on the task at hand.

"Here, have some punch!" Molly Weasley handed him a cup. Snape had reluctantly agreed to Molly hosting the party as everyone knew that Sirius was unable to do so and Snape felt very reluctant to have marauders in his home. The son of one was bad enough.

"Thank you," he accepted the cup, realizing it was the fastest way to get rid of her. "I am fine on my own, Mrs. Weasley."

"If you don't call me Molly I shall rescind my prohibition on the twins pranking you during this party."

"Molly," he nodded.

"Severus," she answered. "I just want you to know that you have to full support of the Weasley family in what you're trying to do for dear Harry."

"Thank you," he nodded, not unaffected by her simple support.

"When Ron had told us of what poor Harry endured at the hands of those muggles . . . poor dear boy. I am still quite cross with Dumbledore about it, I have taken him to task about it. And we could not think of a better person to be his guardian and mentor."

"Really?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow. "Nobody better?"

"Nobody better," she nodded firmly. "And the main reason for that is that you saw what was wrong and worked to fix it."

"I doubt that there are many who would agree with you, Madame."

"Sirius doesn't," she replied boldly. "Please, Severus, for Harry's sake try not to fight with him tonight. He is actually quite bored hiding out with only a deranged house-elf for company. And he is quite disappointed that he is not able to care for James and Lily's son."

"I will not try to engage the mutt," Snape answered. "But I hope he knows better than to cross me directly."

"Me too," Molly agreed. "Here he comes."

"Late to the party, of course," Snape commented, watching the man come up to him with a dour look on his face.

"I see that they're letting everybody in these days," Sirius told Snape with a sneer.

"Apparently," Snape sneered back, raking his eyes from head to foot on Sirius, obvious in his distain. "Anybody smell unwashed dog?"

"Now, now, gentlemen," Molly calmed them. "This party is about Harry, not old rivalries."

"Then keep him on a leash," Snape snapped. "I am in no mood for him."

"But you will listen to me you slimy bat!" Sirius hissed. "If you harm one hair on that boy's head . . ."

"You'll what?" Snape taunted. "You'll lecture me to death? Think really mean thoughts about me from your hidey-hole?"

"I'll bloody kill you!" Sirius threatened, held back just in time by Arthur Weasley. "I know dark spells that could have you screaming for weeks!"

"Let's go for a walk," Arthur told Sirius, wrestling him away from his target. "Come, my friend, let me show you what I've been working on . . ."

"But he has Harry!" Sirius protested, and to Snape's horror he realized that Sirius was nearer a sob than a yell.

"He does, he does," Molly assured him, patting his arm. "And he's keeping him safe. I've never seen Harry happier. Why don't you ask him, Sirius, how he's doing? He'd love to tell you everything. I think Harry's over there talking to Ron, maybe we can chat with him when you're feeling calmer."

Snape watched him being shuffled off, and couldn't help but feel that he should be enjoying the moment more than he was. He should chalk one up to his ability to remain composed and verbally spar with an opponent, but instead all he could think about was how he would feel in Sirius' shoes. It must be hard for him not being able to raise his godson, especially given that he had been abused at his Aunt's house. He wondered at how much opening himself to having a relationship with Harry was making so many other relationships so complicated. Before he could just hate Sirius, now he had to also regard him as Harry's Godfather and recognize that he loved him too. Shaking himself, he decided that enough was enough with the party. It was time to set up the headmaster.

Lupin and Molly, he decided. Those were the two that would have the most sympathy for Harry's happiness, and would have no problem telling Dumbledore so. Maybe Minerva as well, but he thought she just might be a bit too Slytherin for this endeavor. He needed dyed-in-the-wool Gryffindors for what he had planned.

He watched Sirius being shuffled off with Arthur, and he decided to make his move while Remus and Molly were still in the same vicinity. He did his best to look downcast, knowing this went better if she asked first.

"I'm sorry for his behavior, Severus," Molly said softly when she realized the Potions Master was nearby.

"I suppose he wishes he could raise Harry," Snape said, secretly grinding his teeth but outwardly seeming sympathetic. "It must be hard that an unsuitable person like me is able to do it."

"Unsuitable?" Remus asked, surprised. "You are a professor at Hogwarts, for Merlin's sake. Who thinks you're unsuitable?"

"I think Albus may," Snape admitted reluctantly. "I've applied for guardianship and have been waiting for three months now. The only thing I can think of is that Albus doesn't approve and the letter of reference he wrote was less than enthusiastic."

"Surely not!" Molly protested. "Anybody can see how much you two are good together! I've never seen Harry happier."

Harry saw Professor Snape from across the room, concerned by the interaction he was having with his Godfather. Just when Harry was deciding to intervene, he saw Mr. Weasley bundle Sirius off in another direction. Breathing relief, Harry then watched curiously as Snape's face actually looked sad and he talked softly to Lupin and Mrs. Weasley. What could he be saying to them?

"What do you think is going on with them?" Harry asked Ron, who was stuffing biscuits into his mouth.

Ron shrugged. "Adult stuff, I suppose."

"Ron, you know we nearly are them. Adults, I mean."

"Probably about you," he said, swallowing the biscuit. "I mean, what else do they have in common?"

"Maybe we should see," Hermione commented, eyeing up the adults. "If it has to do with you, maybe you should chip in."

"I don't remember them being friendly with Snape," Harry commented, putting down his cup. "Let's see what it is."

Harry, flanked by his close friends, casually made his way across the room. His ears perked up quickly as he came within range - what was that about Dumbledore?

"Dumbledore wants me to be happy," Harry answered, confused. "I'm sorry to interupt, but of course he wants you to be my guardian."

 _Excellent,_ Snape thought. _I had hoped for after the cake, but now will do._ Shaking his head thoughtfully. "I'm not an ideal guardian, Harry. Maybe he wants you to be with someone who isn't a death eater. Perhaps he wants you to have more security than I can offer. It's understandable, he cares about you."

"Then I shall let him know!" Harry told him firmly. "He's here, isn't he? Dumbledore?"

"Yes, Harry?" Dumbledore answered, walking over to the conversation. Harry had to wonder how he seemed to hear everything.

"You want me to live with Professor Snape, right?" Harry asked bluntly.

"Yes, I recommended you were with him this summer," Dumbledore answered easily. "Are you enjoying your time with him?"

"I am," Harry answered simply. "And you want him to be my guardian, right?"

"Well, Harry, that's slightly more complicated . . ."

"How is it more complicated?" Harry pressed, his face becoming earnest. "I want to stay with him."

"Well, Harry, I respect Professor Snape a great deal," Albus told him thoughtfully. "I think in some ways he would be the ideal person to help you in this next phase of your life. But the ministry is concerned about his history . . ."

"I wonder if you were clear about your full confidence if that might help," Snape interrupted thoughtfully. "I understand that you are trying to be politic, Headmaster, but perhaps if they knew I had earned your full support . . ."

"But what is to be gained?" Dumbledore asked. "The lad is with you this summer, and will return to Hogwarts this fall. The next summer he reaches his majority, so guardians are a moot point. Do we really need something more permanent?"

"There's more to guardianship than just a place to stay," Hermione argued. "I read about guardianships in the magical world. There can also be issues of protection and inheritance, in some ways guardianship can be very similar to adoption."

"That's true," Lupin agreed thoughtfully.

"Are you really ready to do that?" Dumbledore asked Snape. "Are you really ready to open your life permanently to Harry? Perhaps we should discuss this more privately."

"We can discuss it here," Snape answered formally. "I want Harry to hear what I have to say. Yes, I am ready to assume the responsibilities associated with a permanent guardianship. From what I've read it would be the best thing for Harry."

"Your duty to Lily is discharged by the protection you've given and by the place you've already offered him," Dumbledore said gently, trying to discern Snape's motivations.

"It's about more than Lily," Snape admitted. "I believe I am developing a rapport with young Mr. Potter based on more than his relationship with my childhood friend. I would like the relationship to be more official and more permanent."

"Are you sure, Severus?" Molly asked. "It should be about more than Harry's protection."

Denying to himself to believe that there was truth in the next statement, said carefully, "I am also not getting any younger, and have no prospects myself for a family of my own. The life of a spy and a teacher has been lonely, I have to admit there are benefits to this arrangement for myself as well. There is something about permanence that is very attractive."

"Permanent?" Harry heard Sirius growl from across the room. "What are you doing to the boy you slimy git?"

"None of your business," Snape sniffed. "If you cannot care for the boy, plans should be made to decide who can."

"Why you traitorous troll . . ." Sirius thundered darkly.

Chaos erupted. Snape saw Sirius raise his wand to cast, and he purposely did nothing. He knew this would be the hardest part of his plan, and he had chosen to take this calculated risk. Every fiber of his body wanted to react, every instinct for self-preservation tried to force him to at least shield if not counter-attack. He had been trained by a lifetime of conflict, war and spying to protect himself. Trusting in the foolish Gryffindor sense of honor to not do anything lethal, he braced for the impact. With a flash of spellfire, he welcomed the darkness that engulfed him.


	3. Chapter 3 - Feeling Guilty

Severus blinked his eyes open, realizing that he was still alive. His senses quickly ascertained information as to where he was, automatically processing the information from his senses to help him. Smell of antiseptic, cloudy light filtering through glass, the feeling of the protective wards - he was in the Hogwarts infirmary. But why here and not St. Mungo's? To protect Sirius, he realized. Of course, if he'd gone to St. Mungo's the aurors would have become involved.

As he was able to focus his eyes slightly better, he moved his head to look around a bit more. He could tell there was someone beside him, he could hear the slight snore of a sleeping person, but in order to see them he would have to move his head, which felt leaden and sore at the time. With enormous effort, he moved his head around slightly and his eyes fell on the sleeping form of Harry Potter. He was curled up in the chair beside his bed, and obviously the boy had spent the night, as morning light filtered through the window. Had nobody been sensible enough to send the boy to bed?

With chagrin, he realized that he had not factored the boy's feelings into his plans. He had known that getting Sirius to attack him would most likely garner sympathy and show his dedication to the lad for Dumbledore and Molly, but he hadn't thought about what it would be like for Harry to watch his godfather attack the man that hoped to become his guardian at his own birthday party. He could see stubborn refusal to leave written all over the sleeping form of the boy. His heart softened then towards the boy even more.

"Awake?" he heard Poppy's voice ask him softly but with the brisk efficiency of a healer. "You've taken quite a blasting curse to the chest, Professor Snape. You are at Hogwarts recovering."

"Thank you," he answered, his tongue feeling thick and sticky.

He then felt a cup of cool water being pressed to his lips, and he drank thirstily. He couldn't pick his head up to assist, but gratefully swallowed what she offered him. Then, feeling somewhat better, he asked, "Am I badly injured?"

"Well, it did not do you any good," she told him. "It was a blasting curse at full strength. It hit you square in the chest, knocking you unconscious as it flung you across the room. Albus and Molly were right there and were able to stabilize your breathing, otherwise you could have suffocated."

 _So much for non-lethal spells,_ Snape thought darkly. _At least it wasn't explicitly lethal._

"When will I be at full strength?" he asked her, closing his eyes.

"I would guess about a week," she told him. "Your magic has extended itself in your healing, so don't underestimate the ramifications and overdo things. And there are some potions I would like you to take as well."

"Of course," he agreed. Then, experimenting with movement, he grimaced. "Broken ribs?"

"Yes," she agreed. "Several of them. I gave you Skele-gro while you were unconscious, I decided you would rather not feel it."

"Thank you," he agreed. He had used Skele-gro before, it was best not to feel it if you could avoid it.

"The headmaster wanted to be informed when you woke," she told him. "I'll send him a message."

Snape nodded, then looked again at the sleeping form of Harry. "You couldn't give him a proper bed?" he asked her.

Madame Pomfrey pursed her lips, shaking her head. "He nearly became violent when we tried to get him to return to his rooms," she told Snape. "And he could have transfigured that into a cot for himself. We decided to let him be."

"Why didn't he make a bed, then?" Severus asked, confused.

"He feels guilty," she answered him, gesturing to the boy. "Have you heard of the term self-flagellation? Where muggles would whip themselves for the forgiveness of sins?"

"But it wasn't his fault!" Snape insisted.

"Of course it wasn't," she answered him with an exasperated sigh. "This was a problem between the grown-ups in the room, not a mostly grown teenager. But he doesn't think about that, all he can see is that his godfather assaulted the man he wants to be his guardian at his birthday party."

"Oh," Snape replied, feeling stupid. How had he not seen how Harry would react?

"I'll get Dumbledore," Madame Pomfrey excused herself.

Harry, waking from the noise, rubbed his eyes. "Professor!" he exclaimed, sitting upright. "You're alive!"

"I certainly am," Snape replied, taking a brisk tone. "Surely Madame Pomfrey assured you thus?"

"She did," Harry admitted. "But I was just so worried. You weren't waking up with everything they were giving you . . ."

"I'm grateful I slept through most of those potions," he told the boy. "I believe you've had Skele-gro? Not the best experience."

Harry nodded, then ducked his head in shame. "I'm really sorry," he told the Potions Master. "So sorry. I had no idea he would do that."

"Of course you didn't," Snape told him. This was not a time to think about plans and manipulation, this was something that was much more important. "What lies between Sirius Black and myself goes back to when we were in Hogwarts together, Harry. It had nothing to do with you."

"But you were fighting about me!" Harry protested, then looked away. "I'd never had a birthday party really. When you suggested it it sounded so nice, but I shouldn't have wanted it. I'm sorry that my party almost killed you."

"You seem to feel guilty about this," Snape observed.

Harry nodded. "As guilty as I felt when I looked in your pensieve," he confessed.

"Well let me be very clear on this point," he told the boy firmly. "And any disbelief of my statement I will take as disrespect on your part. You have no reason to feel guilty, it really did have nothing to do with you. With the pensieve I punished you and we both moved on, and I am certainly not doing that in this instance because your guilt is in error. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded, looking unsure. "Yes, sir. But . . ."

"No buts," Snape corrected firmly. "The fault lies squarely on the shoulders of Black and myself. Nobody else."

"Not you!" Harry protested.

"I could have handled Black better," Snape admitted, not acknowledging to himself the truth of that statement.

"I hate him," Harry glowered.

"Did you say that to him?" Snape asked, looking at the teenager carefully.

"I did," Harry admitted. "I said that I hated him and never wanted to see him again."

"To which he is most upset," Dumbledore entered the room. "It is good to see you awake, Severus."

Snape nodded his head in acknowledgement, wondering what the Headmaster wanted. "Poppy assures me I am on the road to recovery."

"Excellent," the headmaster nodded. "I'm am most gratified to hear that, Severus. We were quite worried about you."

"Thank you for your concern," Snape replied. "But I've taken much worse."

"I know you have," he smiled sadly. "And I wish it weren't so. Harry, how are you feeling?"

"Me? I'm fine," Harry answered, stretching. "My back has felt better, though. I should have made the chair into a cot."

"I would have done it if you had been slightly less hostile last night," Albus replied, his eyes twinkling. "You were quite determined to stay, and would hear nothing to the contrary."

"My fault he was there," Harry sniffed, looking away.

"Mr. Potter, we've already addressed that," Snape told him firmly. "I might interpret any illogical and misplaced guilt from you as disrespectful."

"Sorry," Harry mumbled. "It just _felt_ like my fault."

"Sirius is thinking it is mostly his fault," Dumbledore told him. "When I left him he was quite distraught."

"He was?" Snape asked, his eyebrow arching.

"I left Remus with him to make sure he wouldn't do something . . . desperate," Dumbledore confirmed. "I'm afraid the time at Grimmauld Place has made him somewhat . . . unhinged. And then assaulting Severus and hearing that from Harry was very . . . difficult for him. We have had to sedate him."

"He shouldn't have done that to Severus," Harry replied darkly.

"Of course not," Dumbledore agreed. "And when he's more stable we will talk to him about making reparations to Severus."

"Reparations?" Snape asked incredulously. "When it was simply a minor entry at the end of a very long list of injustices and abuses?"

"I will plead with you for some understanding," Dumbledore sighed. "The man has taken all of this very hard. And he's spent many years at Azkaban unjustly, don't forget. And surely some sympathy could be extended for his current circumstances. Now that you are on the road to recovery, I am hoping that you find it in your heart to not revenge yourself upon him."

"Perhaps," Snape said, trying to sounds harsh but in reality he really did feel some sympathy for the man. But that didn't stop him in being ruthless in using him to get guardianship of Harry, however. "But I have no assurance that his behavior won't repeat itself."

"Remus will keep a shorter leash on him," Dumbledore assured him. "You know we can't go to the Aurors, he is still wanted. And though his attack on you was deplorable, surely you wouldn't see him kissed for it."

"Probably not," Snape admitted. "Though tempting. I will have to think on it some more before I can make a decision."

"Of course," Dumbledore nodded.

"I don't want to see him again," Harry told Albus firmly. "I meant what I said. I have no room in my life for a person who would hurt my guardian."

"He's not your guardian yet, Harry," Dumbledore told him. "But I will admit that I underestimated your feelings in this matter. Professor Snape's as well."

"Then you weren't paying attention," Harry retorted.

"Apparently not," Dumbledore replied, smiling affably. "Perhaps I was blinded by prejudice."

"I know I am not the ideal person," Snape said softly, surprised by the actual sincerity in what he said. "I know who I am and what I've done. I also know that I spent the lad's first four years at this school making him miserable because I was too blind to see past old grievances. But Harry and I have developed a . . . rapport that we both enjoy. And I do want to protect and guide him, just as we both know Lily would have wanted."

"I understand," Dumbledore nodded. "And I have already owled the ministry to that effect. Anymore roadblocks are not due to me, and I apologize that I doubted you."

Snape nodded, mollified. "The lad needs his breakfast," he told Dumbledore. "It's not good for him to be in here looking after me. He didn't get a proper birthday, after all."

Harry snorted, his body relaxing. "Mrs. Weasley told me she would bring me my cake later today," he told Snape. "And I think she wanted to say hi to you as well."

"If she must," Snape grimaced, though secretly he was glad. Molly was a good ally to have, though she seemed like a nobody in the wizarding world she actually wielded a good deal of interpersonal power in the Order of the Phoenix. And the woman was nearly impossible to argue with once she got her mind set on something, so it was good it was set on Harry and himself now. "Harry, I'm sorry that your party was ruined. I'm very thankful that I gave you your present in the morning at least."

"And I have it on right now," Harry showed Snape. "I was showing Ron how fast these let you draw your wand. It's amazing!"

"That's a professional wand holster," Dumbledore observed. "Like the ones that Aurors use. That was a very thoughtful gift."

"Could save his life," Snape mumbled, telling himself that he was just pretending to be sleepy. "Worth every knut."

Madame Pomfrey shooed the Headmaster and Harry out at that point, with strict instructions for Harry to have a decent breakfast. Snape watched them go, succumbing to his weariness as he planned. The ball would start rolling, then, and he would enact the next part of his plan. He had to make Voldemort think that the guardianship was a good idea.


	4. Chapter 4 - Enduring the Curse

_AN: I stole a line in this fic from a review left by faithful reader, reviewer and fellow writer Dutchgirl84. She wrote, "I see Snape putting himself in danger and I don't like it," and that made me decide that Snape needed to hear her opinion through Dumbledore. :) And, as always, your reviews and support mean a lot to me, thank you._

* * *

Snape curled up, panting, focusing on enduring the indescribable pain of the Cruciatus curse. He had endured it many times before, and he knew that if he could simply discipline his mind enough, he could endure until he was home and taking his restoring potion. He had known that when he was called to a private meeting with Voldemort that it was going to be bad, and he knew why Voldemort was doing this. But it still was hard to bear.

"You acted without my approval!" the Dark Lord thundered, twisting his wand in a particularly brutal fashion.

"I'm sorry, my Lord," Snape panted, trying to focus. "I thought my plan would come to naught and did not wish to bother you with it."

"Surely your applying for guardianship of the boy who has been prophesied to kill me worthy of my attention," the Dark Lord hissed, renewing his assault.

"Please, Milord," Snape asked, allowing the pleading tone to take over his request. "Please, no more. I had hoped to present you with him being my ward and ask for your orders. I had hoped you would be pleased with me."

"I would have been pleased had you asked for my orders in the first place!" he hissed.

"Please, Milord," he begged, knowing Voldemort would be more satisfied if he were more humiliated. "I am very sorry. I simply sought your approval, and hoped to serve the boy to you on a silver plate."

Voldemort stopped the curse, and Snape took deep ragged breaths to try and right himself. He knew better than to get up.

"You have been invaluable to me in the past, Severus," Voldemort hissed. "But that does not mean that you are protected. Do not think I will overlook your posturing for more power."

"I truly sought only to please you," Snape panted, wincing as he experimented with moving his limbs. "I did not want to tell you until I was sure I wouldn't fail."

Suddenly Snape found his mind invaded, and he welcomed the intrusion while appearing to resist. Though Voldemort was a powerful Legilimens, Snape's power of Occlumency had never been defeated. But he was not about to let Voldemort know that, so he supplied ready memories of him paddling the lad for stealing Murtlap, of him making the offer to become his guardian, and on the machinations of his plan to secure guardianship. Snape reflected that a large part of the art of Occlumency was knowing which memories to occlude and which ones to share. He had to share enough to gain the Dark Lord's trust, but protect those that would unmask him. It was a delicate dance.

"I see your intentions," Voldemort acknowledged. "You have secured the boy's loyalty."

"I have tried, Milord," Snape replied, trying to keep his voice steady after the intrusion.

"Your plans though foolhardy, have perhaps some merit," Voldemort commented thoughtfully. "I wish to become apprised of every detail in the future."

"Yes, Milord," Snape readily agreed, letting relief creep into his tone.

"I should not hear from my ministry spies what you are up to, I should hear it from you," he said coldly. "Imagine my own agent not keeping me apprised."

"I apologize, Milord. You are right."

"Then get up and go back to your job," he told the Potions Master. "And I will think on this more. I have not made my decision on what to do about you yet. If I decide that I feel that you have acted in a traitorous way, I will deal with you then."

"Yes, Milord," Snape nodded, hurrying to obey. His body trembled and protested, but he forced himself to stand. His muscles shook in protest, but he knew slow obedience would simply result in an additional dose of the cruciatus. And he knew the reprieve for what it was - a brief break in punishment. If Voldemort decided that he had acted traitorously then he would simply be summoned and killed. But he couldn't focus on that now, he had to simply move forward. And go back home where a bottle of his restorative awaited him.

"Oh, and Severus?" Voldemort said as he had turned to go.

"Yes, milord?"

"Take a care that you do not become . . . sympathetic to the boy," Voldemort hissed. "Even if you were able to corrupt him, he cannot live. I will kill him."

"Yes, Milord," Snape bowed his head. "I live to please you."

Snape was dismissed with a wave of Voldemort's hand, and he quickly apparated out. He could apparate out to his home at Spinner's end where he could lick his wounds in private, and pray that Harry wouldn't wake. He wasn't sure how to explain his spying to the boy, even though he knew that Snape was a spy. It was one thing to know something, it was quite another to be confronted with your guardian actually speaking often to the Dark Lord and suffering under the cruciatus curse from him.

Stumbling through the fireplace at his home, he was surprised to find strong hands catching him. Looking up he expected to see Harry, but instead saw the concerned face of Albus Dumbledore.

"Come, my boy, sit," Dumbledore directed him. "You look terrible."

"Blue potion," Snape directed him. "The blue bottle over there."

Dumbledore handed him the bottle, and Snape quaffed it with impunity. Slowly, he felt his nerves begin their inevitable repair, and he began to be able to breathe in a slower manner. Taking a few deep breaths, he found his blood pressure reducing and his headache beginning to ebb. The potion worked well.

"I see you left the potion out for yourself," Dumbledore observed.

"I always do when summoned," Snape admitted, closing his eyes as he felt his nerves calm. "That way if I need it I do not have to fetch it."

"Is it of your own invention?" Dumbledore asked softly.

"I have found it needful to develop a potion to counteract the effects of the Cruciatus curse," Snape admitted stiffly. "Otherwise I would be either insane or a squib by now."

"Did you know you were going to need it tonight?" he asked.

"I suspected," Snape acknowledged. "I know that the application went through at the ministry now that I had your recommendation and that he would probably be alerted with one of his spies. It was a matter of time."

"Why not tell him first and head off the problem?"

"It's better to ask forgiveness than permission," Snape answered, a wry grimace on his face. "I probably would have had the crucio either way, but this way it looks like I'm sucking up and trying to gain favor. That makes him feel powerful."

"You are certainly the expert here," Dumbledore acknowledged. "I admire the work that you do. You can handle people so well it took me nearly a minute the other day to see how you'd handled me."

"Headmaster?"

Dumbledore laughed, his eyes sparkling. "Next time you should try and shield at least a little; you having made no attempt to shield was what was suspicious."

Damn it, he's right, Snape thought to himself, grimacing. "Then why did you agree?" he asked grumpily.

"I didn't agree to your guardianship because I felt sorry for you being attacked by Sirius," Dumbledore told him. "But what I saw showed that I had clearly underestimated your feelings for the boy. You went against all of your natural instincts and were willing to let yourself be injured, perhaps even killed, to garner sympathy from me in order to secure my recommendation. That is why I changed my mind - it was about how much you love the boy, not because you manipulated my sympathy."

Snape squirmed a bit, embarrassed that Dumbledore saw through his machinations. Was he not able to manipulate anybody anymore? He groaned a response.

"Furthermore, I wanted to tell you that I see you putting yourself in needless danger and I don't like it," Dumbledore told him in a stern voice.

Snape's stomach clenched. How was it that the cruciatus causes less fear in him than a mild reprimand from the Headmaster? But clench his stomach did, and suddenly Snape felt eleven years old again being sent to the headmaster for reprimand. "I wanted your recommendation," Snape answered, cringing at how much he sounded like a petulant child. "That seemed the best way to get it."

"You should have talked to me about it," Dumbledore sternly told him. "But you did not trust that I would have Harry's or your best interest at heart. So instead you played on my natural sympathies to get what you wanted, and you endangered yourself in the process."

"I endanger myself all the time," Snape grumbled.

"There are times you have no choice," Dumbledore agreed. "Like tonight with Voldemort. But with me you did have a choice, and you chose to endanger yourself instead. Now I ask you Severus, what would you do with Harry if he endangered himself trying to manipulate you instead of just talking to you?"

"It would involve a paddle," Snape answered darkly, his eyes flashing. He could all too easily envision just such an occurrence.

"And yet you do the same yourself?" Dumbledore asked mildly. "How do you think Harry felt to see you hurt? How would he have felt if you'd been killed? You're someone's guardian now, you must be more careful. Perhaps I should take your advice utilize the paddle."

Severus could feel his face flush and his stomach wrench at the implications that Dumbledore said. He looked away. He had to admit the man had a point, he would have to begin to think very hard about any plan causing unnecessary risk to himself.

"Come, my boy, you've had a difficult night," Dumbledore told him, his voice lightening and becoming warm again. "Let me help you to your bed."

"I can make it on my own," Snape insisted, but did not protest as strong hands helped him to rise. Usually after the cruciatus he slept on the sofa by the fireplace, but he had to admit that his own bed would do him more good. He just had to give the potion time to work properly, he should be better by morning.

Dumbledore didn't argue, but simply helped the man into his bed. With a wave of his wand Snape's clothes transformed into dark green pajamas, and neither of them commented on the fact that Snape should use as little magic as possible until his nerves were healed. Snape suspected that Dumbledore had more than a passing knowledge of the cruciatus himself, though he couldn't begin to speculate where that knowledge came from.

"Do you need me to summon your elf to bring you something to eat?" Dumbledore asked solicitously.

"I am fine," Snape told him. "Sleep is the best medicine now."

"I am sorry what you have to suffer as a spy for him," Dumbledore told Snape, his face looking weary. "I wish there was a way to do what needed to be done without you paying such a cost."

"I knew what I was paying when I agreed," Snape told him, finding himself unconsciously nestling into the pillows. "I made that decision a long time ago."

"Yes, you did," Dumbledore agreed, smiling softly at the man. "My brave boy. Sleep well, and no more unnecessary risks."

Snape slipped off to sleep then, trusting Dumbledore to see himself out. He had a lot to think about.


	5. Chapter 5 - Drinking Tea

_AN: It is with great sadness that we mourn the passing of Alan Rickman. Though I have enjoyed him in many roles throughout the years (c'mon, he was the best thing about Robin Hood, Prince of Thieves), he will always be for me the quintessential Severus Snape. When I write Snape (and, as you may have noticed, he's what I write about), I hear Mr. Rickman's voice in my head. Every line I write for Snape to say I picture Alan Rickman saying it, and adjusting it to fit how he spoke. He brought depth and nuance to a role that could have been clownish, and he did it with a humble believability that we all bought it. When I had first read that he was cast as Snape I was disappointed because I thought that he was far more handsome than the Snape I had in my head. But I was wrong, and from the first time I saw him in that black cloak I knew he would represent Snape to me forever. I read somewhere that Rickman being cast as Severus Snape was a spoiler in a lot of ways, because why else would he be cast if Snape wasn't meant to break our hearts? His death this week from cancer has truly cut our hearts out, with a spoon._

 _Related to the story: I've been asked about length, and right now I'm not sure. It will be a little longer than its predecessor, but not a 30 chapter marathon. :)_

Harry had known for some time that Snape was a person of many layers, most of them not discernible to most people. The man dressed in crisp black robes with many buttons sitting across from him at the breakfast table every summer morning was certainly not the man he remembers as the bane of Gryffindor, nor the man that earned so much of his hate when he'd been a young Hogwarts student. This was a man who presented as thoughtful and measured, a man who had made sure Harry had adequate food and clothing while also impressing the importance of study over the summer.

"You seem a bit sore this morning, Professor," Harry commented pouring his breakfast tea. "Are you sure you're fully recovered from Black's spell?"

"I am recovered," Snape assured him. "And I am fit. Don't think that your solicitousness gets you out of dueling practice today." Snape was not about to admit any of his conversations with Voldemort to the boy, let alone let on how often he endured the Cruciatus Curse. Better to get him off the trail.

"Of course not," Harry smiled. "I like it when we duel."

"Hmph," Snape replied, sipping his tea. "Then I need to notch up the stinging hexes."

"Aren't you afraid that if you train me too well you'll have to give me top marks?" Harry asked, grinning. "Wouldn't that kill you to do so? Imagine Severus Snape having to admit that Harry Potter was good at something."

"I believe you have enough competition that I'm not worried," Snape sneered affably. "Even that common red-headed friend of yours has a few good defensive spells. I believe my reputation as the bane of Gryffindor will remain intact."

"You were gone last night," Harry said suddenly, and Snape saw that he had wanted to say it all along and had been working up the courage. There wasn't accusation in that comment, however, but rather worry.

"Yes, I was," Snape told him smoothly. "I believed you to be asleep so I didn't tell you. I was called to Hogwarts for a meeting with Dumbledore, there's nothing to worry about."

His assurances did nothing to calm the boy, however, and Harry looked him still with consternation. "I saw you early this morning. You'd slept on the couch, and there was a bottle of potion beside you that I didn't recognize."

 _Drat that boy,_ Snape thought, and realized that some version of the truth was what he needed to say. Knowing it didn't make it easier, it was very difficult for a man that played so many things so close to his chest to be open.

Harry watched the emotions flicker on the usually blank face of the Potions Master, and he was concerned. Should he have just pretended to ignore it like he had when he'd seen it before? He squirmed a little in his seat, Snape looked dangerous when his eyes flashed like that.

"You know that I am a spy for the Order," Snape told him, trying to keep his voice and his mind calm. "You also know that there are things I cannot tell you. I did have a visit with Dumbledore last night, and then I had a visit with another powerful wizard. The second visit resulted in my injuries, which are rapidly being healed by my potion."

"Does he torture you often?" Harry asked, his voice small.

Snape's eyes fixed on Harry strongly, trying to discern the boy's emotion. If Harry had asked in almost any other way Snape would have exploded with the rage and the shame he always felt after he was tortured, but the soft way Harry asked him mollified him a lot. Harry asked from the viewpoint of someone who himself had faced scary and frightening people, and several who indeed had tortured him.

"Yes," Snape managed to reply, letting that simple reply hang in the air between them. He wanted to explain and to justify, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

"Bloody bastard," Harry told him with quiet conviction.

"Quite," Snape agreed, turning away. The solidarity he felt with this underage wizard at that moment rattled him, and touched him in a place that he wasn't sure still existed. He felt his heart twist, and was reminded of Lily with bittersweet certainty.

"Well, I am supposed to kill him," Harry replied, trying to keep his voice lighter. "Perhaps you could cheer me on as I do so?"

"I'll pass out popcorn to the main event," Snape drawled.

"That might let on you're on our side," Harry smirked.

"Speaking of our side," Snape replied, looking around for something. "I've had another letter from Lupin."

"Don't want to talk about it," Harry replied darkly, looking away.

"He's certainly not my favorite person," Snape acknowledged. "But his is your Godfather and a good ally for our cause. You cannot ignore him forever."

"Try me."

Snape sighed. He had not intended to create lasting enmity between Harry and his Godfather, he had really underestimated how personally his young charge would take it. "It is exceedingly puzzling to me," Snape told him. "I seem to remember threatening someone with the cane last year for trying to risk their life to save a certain Godfather. I would have thought affection that deep would be able to weather some bad behavior. Even behavior that was as atrocious as Black displayed."

"He attacked you," Harry said sullenly. "He could have killed you."

Snape realized that he was at a crossroads. If Harry had been a Slytherin, he would have coached him in having strategies, of using Black's guilt against him to get an upper hand over him. Properly wielded, Black's guilt could master him, especially when coupled with his guilt over Harry's parents' death. But Snape found that, against his better judgement, he just couldn't get himself to coach Harry that way. Even though he hated Black, he just couldn't use the man's guilt against him. As he had become somewhat . . . used to Harry, he could more easily empathize with the loss Black was feeling.

"I should have shielded," Snape admitted. "I was off my game."

"He shouldn't have attacked you."

"True," Snape nodded. "But he was . . . provoked. I think it is very . . . difficult for him that he is unable to care for you. I remember in the spring when you hurt me by looking in my pensieve, it was very difficult for me to forgive you. But I had to do it in order to have any sort of relationship with you, and so I chose to do so."

"You still punished me," Harry's eyes flashed.

"You can still make your . . . displeasure known to your Godfather," Snape confirmed, stifling a smile at the thought of Harry punishing the former marauder. "He should know that you do not appreciate his behavior."

"But I should still let him apologize to me," Harry nodded. "I remember how desperate i was to apologize to you. You're right, I do still care about him."

"I believe he is equally desperate," Snape acknowledged.

"Too bad I can't spank him," Harry smirked. "It would probably make us both feel better."

"It probably would," Snape replied, letting a small ghost of a smile play on his lips. "Satisfying, perhaps, but impractical with a child as large as Sirius Black. He's always been a bit incorrigible too, I'm afraid. I'm afraid you will have to settle for a verbal reprimand."

"Should I floo call him then?"

"I believe I can send a note to Lupin on your behalf," Snape acknowledged. "Perhaps we could go there for tea, as it would be difficult for him to come here, given that the floo networks are monitored."

"If he's not sorry, though, I'm not apologizing," Harry's eyes flashed. "He should be grateful to you for taking care of me, not homicidal."

"That's fair," Snape nodded. "I will make sure that I communicate that to Lupin. If he's not ready to apologize, then you can wait until he is ready."

"You could always do it, you know," Harry teased, smirking. "You're pretty formidable with that paddle of yours."

"The cane, Potter," Snape replied with an acerbic tone. "I believe with Black I would use the cane."

"Would you ever on me?" Harry asked, his eyes showing some uncertainty. "The cane, I mean."

"I couldn't say no, as much as I would wish it," Snape told him. "The cane is a very harsh punishment. The application is extremely painful and the marks can last for several days. But there might be a circumstance where the cane is necessary, however unlikely. I meant it when I said I would have used the cane that time I intercepted you going to the ministry after Black. But, in all honesty, I have never caned a child."

"Have you had the cane, sir?" Harry asked, curious.

Snape thought for a moment, and then decided to be truthful. "I have," he replied. "It was common at the muggle school I attended before Hogwarts, and it was used at Hogwarts when I was a student as well, though not commonly."

"Is that why you use a paddle instead?" he asked Snape.

"Indeed," Snape answered. "Though a few whacks with a paddle may get a child to think more seriously about their wrongdoing and hopefully deter future wrongdoing, I do not see any reason to routinely leave marks on them. Unless it was perhaps a matter of life or death."

"I'm glad," Harry smiled up at his guardian.

"Have you had the cane?" Snape asked him, curious.

"They banned it in my school when I was younger," Harry answered. "So I never had it. But I saw the marks on an older student once before the ban. It looked brutal."

"Indeed, it is," Snape nodded. "I will send the note."

. . .

Harry found himself using the floo to The Leaky Cauldron, where Snape told him that getting to Number 12 Grimmauld Place would involve side-long apparition. Harry still felt anger when he thought of the scene in which Black attacked Snape, but he tried hard not to focus on that.

"Come along," Snape gestured as the apparated in front of Grimmauld Place. "This way."

"Is he going to apologize?" Harry asked, anxiety clear in his voice. He also gripped his stomach, hoping to not throw up from the side-long apparition.

"Lupin said he was overjoyed with the opportunity," Snape drawled. "Apparently he has been quite distraught thinking that he had 'mucked things up' between the two of you permanently."

"I will try," Harry promised, seeing the look Snape gave him.

"That is all I can ask," Snape nodded as they strode into the building.

"Harry!" he heard Lupin greet him, pulling him into a rough hug. "And Professor Snape! Welcome and thank you for coming!"

"Lupin," Snape acknowledged, nodding. "How are you this afternoon?"

"Fine, fine," Lupin greeted them, offering Snape a hand to shake. "Please come in, we have tea set out for you."

Harry and Snape followed him into the main room, where they could both see that there had been some effort made to tidy, and there were cakes and sandwiches waiting for them with a mis-matched tea set. Harry scanned the room, eyes locking on Sirius Black, who waited for them. His hands clasped behind his back and his robes were neater than normal, and Harry could see that he held himself with some anxiety. It was hard to believe that he was capable of provoking that kind of anxiety in someone, but he felt somewhat mollified when he saw that Sirius was taking this seriously.

"Welcome Harry, Professor Snape," Sirius greeted them formally. "I appreciate you coming."

"Thank you for the invitation," Snape answered smoothly, nodding. "I think we all hope that we can arrive at a good accord this afternoon."

Harry, cognizant of the fact that he had yet to speak, sat down on the offered couch and accepted a cup of tea and a sandwich. It seemed very strange to him to be sipping tea and playing at being genteel when really he just wanted to yell at Sirius.

"I'm glad we could get together," Lupin coughed, looking at Sirius. "We have a lot to discuss. But perhaps we should start with Sirius' apology."

Sirius, nodding at his cue, set his tea down on the table. "Professor Snape," he started in a voice that sounded rehearsed. "I want to take this chance to tell you how sorry I am that I hexed you. The attack was completely unprovoked and my fault. I am so sorry that I did that, and I'm very glad that you weren't permanently hurt."

Snape inclined his head towards his enemy, and silkily replied, "I appreciate your apology, Black. But I would ask why you felt the need to kill me."

Snape saw the angry retort come to Black's mind, but he saw him push it down. _The man is really trying,_ he begrudgingly recognized.

"I was angry with you because I was hurt," he admitted quietly, letting the anger drain out. "Harry, I wanted to take care of you so badly. James and Lily named me as your Godfather, that's what they wanted. I would give anything to be able to be that for you. And then when I saw Sni . . . Professor Snape be able to be your guardian. I was jealous, and I attacked him. I am sorry."

"You can't do that ever again," Harry told him seriously. "I mean it."

"I won't," Sirius promised. "I promise never to attack Professor Snape again. I'll even work on trying to be polite to him if it means that much to you."

"It does," Harry told him, his face still stern. "I am very displeased that you did that."

Snape, smirking at how much like himself Harry looked at that moment. It did really feel like Harry was letting his displeasure known.

Black, squirming like a child in trouble, looked away. "I'm sorry Harry. When I realized how unhappy I'd made you, I . . . well, I'm terribly sorry. I wouldn't risk making you that unhappy again."

"I forgive you," Harry relented, seeing the tears start in Black's eyes. "And I will hold you to your promise to never do it again."

"Thank you, Harry," Sirius softly nodded.

"Thank Professor Snape," Harry directed. "He talked me into meeting with you and told me I should forgive you as he'd forgiven me."

Black, clearly shocked by that revelation, looked at the Potions Master. Snape sat, elegantly appointed, sipping his tea with aplomb. He would love to see the man deal with that little nugget of truth.

"Thank you, Severus," Lupin nodded with emotion. "We appreciate your care of Harry as well as your assistance in helping Harry and Sirius deal with this problem."

Sirius nodded in agreement, but found himself too choked with emotion to speak. How could the bat of the dungeons and his sworn enemy actually instruct Harry to forgive him? It boggled the mind.

"It's hard to picture Harry needing that much forgiveness," Remus smiled, trying to lighten the room.

"You would be surprised," Snape smirked, picking up a tea sandwich. "He may be half Lily, but he's also half Potter."

"So does it look like the guardianship is going to go through?" Lupin asked.

"It appears so," Snape answered. "We have high hopes."

The conversation continued, mostly around inane subjects, though they also talked about how much contact Sirius should have with Harry. Snape agreed to floo calls when arranged, and for a tea ever few weeks. Snape could hardly believe how well this was going. Where was the Black that lived to cause problems? Tamed by his love of a petulant teenager?

"I'm going to go take Harry to the kitchen for a bit," Remus told them, with a significant look to Black. "We'll give you two a few minutes alone."

"Do you think that wise, Remus?" Snape asked, arching an eyebrow. "We haven't assaulted each other in simply days."

"Sirius is on his best behavior," Remus smiled. "And I trust you will be too."

"We shall try," Sirius promised, watching them leave.

"We have never been friends," Snape told him, once the door was closed.

"No, we haven't," Sirius agreed.

"We have had to work together for the good of the Order," Snape told him.

"I could have been better about that," Sirius admitted.

"Quit confessing to everything you foolish Gryffindor," Snape told him, but without malice. "We both did it. We both know I goaded you when you attacked me. Granted, you were easy to goad."

"Truce then?" Sirius asked.

"Truce," Snape agreed. "But I still don't like you."

"I don't like you either," Sirius agreed with a smirk. "But this really makes us some sort family, you know."

"I did hate several parts of my family," Snape agreed. "I perhaps hate you less than my father."

"And I hate you less than mine," Sirius smirked.

"I seem to remember you being disowned," Snape said sharply.

"And you were at Hogwarts for Christmas," Sirius countered.

"Alright, touché," Snape nodded. "Neither of us really know how to do this."

"Why are you doing it?" Sirius asked with a certain raw honesty. "He looks so much like James, and you've hated him for years. Why?"

"I don't know really," Snape replied, answering Sirius' honesty with some of his own. "It was quite accidental. But it is done now."

"Why?"

"I saw Lily in him," Snape answered simply. "That's really all it took. He has a good heart."

"He does," Sirius agreed. "That he does."

They both recognized the truce for what it was, and neither of them believed that it was truly over.


	6. Chapter 6 - Lying and Confessing

Harry had not dreamt of the Department of Mysteries for some time, but in the last few weeks since school started again the dream became frequent again. But it wasn't until he woke up in the middle of the night with Snape offering him a potion did he realize how much it had been affecting his sleep.

"Same dream?" Snape asked noncommittally.

"Yes," Harry answered, accepting the potion. He recognized it as a mild concoction of dreamless sleep, and he settled back down into his blankets.

"How did you know?" Harry asked, looking around nervously.

"I have the elves telling me if they think you need me," Snape answered briskly. "Don't worry, I have cast a muffling charm so your roommates won't hear me. Have you finished all of that potion?"

"Maybe I should just do what he wants," Harry said glumly, nodding to answer his question. "He's not going to leave me alone until I do."

"Perhaps you are right," Snape nodded.

"What?" Harry asked incredulously. He did not expect Snape to agree with him. He had been expecting something along the lines of "Don't be an idiot."

"Perhaps we should do what he wants on our own terms," Snape answered. "Let me think about this further. We still have the problem of the ministry not believing that he's back, so if we could disabuse them of that notion in the process, then that would be a good idea."

"Do you have a plan, then?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Employ your occlumency shields," Snape told him firmly. "And go back to sleep. I will do some thinking and we'll talk more tomorrow."

Harry felt the potion take affect, and let himself sink into sleep softly by its urging. It was a mild push instead of an insistent shove, and his eyes closed heavily. It felt good that Snape had these things under control, it meant that he didn't have to worry about everything so much . . .

Harry didn't see the professor for most of the next day, and he found himself sad that it wasn't a day for Potions. It had felt like a dream that he had appeared in his room like that with the sleeping potion, but he knew it had to be real. It almost felt too strange for a dream, why would Snape do something so nice for him?

He contemplated the night before at dinner as an owl dropped a rolled parchment in front of his plate. Hermione gave him a significant look as he unrolled it:

 _Dear Murtlap Thief,_

 _Your presence is required tonight in my office at 8 pm._

 _SS_

Harry set the paper aside, turning back to his meal. He tried to hide his excitement for the meeting, he hoped that this was when they began planning how he was going to expose Voldemort. He began to finish his meal with gusto.

"So what's the plan, then?" Ron asked, whispering.

"I don't know," Harry replied in a normal voice, thinking whispering looked much more suspicious than a normal voice. "But it's something about exposing Voldemort and dealing with those dreams."

"You're still having them?" Hermione asked, her voice accusing. "You didn't tell us that."

"It's been more recently," Harry admitted, unconsciously touching his forehead. "I'm not sure why. But the big V isn't happy that he couldn't compel me to go wherever last year."

"But I thought Fudge was sucking up to you," Ron commented, confused. "Doesn't he believe that you-know-who is back?"

"Apparently sucking up only goes so far," Harry smirked. "But I'm sure ol' Snape will know how to handle it."

"He does seem to have this sort of thing come, you know, as second nature," Hermione observed. "I think he might really care about you, Harry."

Harry scoffed in response, but didn't let her know that what she said actually pierced his heart. He had grown to care for Snape a great deal, to look up to him almost as a father, and it would seem incredible if that could be reciprocated. But he didn't really believe that it could – why would Snape actually care about him? When he'd offered guardianship Harry had been so surprised, but he tried not to hope to much in that.

That night, Harry arrived at the Potions classroom 10 minutes early. He had heard that Dean Thomas had detention tonight, and he saw him scrubbing cauldrons as he entered.

"Hi Harry," Dean greeted him. "You have detention too?"

"Indeed he does," Snape snapped at him. "Mr. Thomas, are you quite done with that cauldron yet?"

"Almost sir," he answered, snapping back to his work.

"Then I expect silence from you until you are finished," he growled at the Gryffindor, turning towards Harry.

"You are early, Mr. Potter," Snape inclined his head. "Get ready for our session by spending some time clearing your head. I will join you in a minute."

"Yes, sir," Harry agreed, and sat down to clear his mind.

Instead of making his mind a serene pool of nothing, though, instead he saw in front of him the potions book that he had taken from the cupboard belonging to the half-blood prince. Blushing as he saw the book in his minds' eye, he also blushed with how much better he was doing at potions. Was Hermione right and the book was cheating? Should he not trust the half-blood prince? What if Snape learned of him doing better in potions and got suspicious, should he tell him about the book? Would he get angry and say Harry was cheating? Or, worse yet, endangering himself for trusting an unknown source?

Snape watched the lad struggle with clearing his mind. It became obvious as he squirmed and blushed that there was some secret he wasn't revealing to Snape, and Snape found himself wondering what it could be. Was this some foolishness over a girl again? It wasn't anything to do with school, when he'd checked with the boy's teachers they all said that he was doing well. Even surprisingly well in potions, which Snape suspected might have to do with the extra tutoring he'd given Harry over the summer.

And Harry wasn't the only one to have a secret, either. He had been trying to cope with Dumbledore's eminent demise quietly and he found himself wondering about whether or not he should tell Harry. Especially if it did come down to him having to actually kill Dumbledore in Draco's stead – shouldn't he warn the lad? And he was also going to have to confess his role in the prophecy situation as well, and Snape wasn't looking forward to that conversation at all.

Snape watched Dean Thomas finish his cauldron and then leave with an assurance that he would pay better attention in Defense class in the future. Then, he sat down opposite of the boy and did the mind-clearing exercises himself. He could use some emptying his mind right now, worrying about Dumbledore had taken more out of himself then he had admitted to himself.

"Discipline your mind," he told Harry firmly. "You are not clearing your mind properly, it is written all over your face."

"Sorry," Harry mumbled, blushing again.

"Is there something you need to tell me?" Snape asked, trying to sound gentle in his question. No use in scaring him if there was reason for him to fear punishment.

"There's nothing," Harry lied, and then tried to deflect the attention. "Is there anything that you need to tell me?"

"No," Snape lied. "Let's focus on clearing your mind, then. And then we will begin to plan."

Harry agreed, trying to bury the guilt he was feeling at keeping things from Snape. He also felt as if Snape was a little off as well, but he didn't know if that was just the anxiety he was feeling or if there was something else.

"We have two goals," Snape told him thoughtfully, breaking the silence. "We want Voldemort to be discovered by the ministry of magic, and we want to figure out why he wants you to go to the Department of Mysteries."

"What is kept there?" Harry asked. "I've seen spheres, but I'm not sure what they are."

"Prophecies," Snape answered heavily, feeling the inevitability of where this was heading and unable to stop it. "When a prophecy is made, it is stored in that room. Only the person the prophecy is made about can retrieve it."

"Was there a prophecy made about me?" Harry asked quietly.

"There was," Snape answered, his own stomach twisting in fear and self-recrimination. He should have planned better for when this moment came. Should he tell or should he lie?  
"I wonder what it is," Harry thought. "Maybe why I wasn't killed by Voldemort?"

"Perhaps," Snape admitted, and then looked away from Harry. "Harry, there's something I need to tell you."

"What's that?" Harry asked, keeping his voice casual but looking at Snape sharply. This was obviously something important.

"I think you know that I was a spy for the Order during Voldemort's first war," Snape told him carefully. "And you know that before that I was seduced by Voldemort and was one of his minions."

"Yes," Harry agreed. "That's when you got the dark mark."

Snape nodded, knowing he should continue but having trouble doing it. He wondered at that pull in his stomach, he had not realized how much he had come to care for the boy. If Harry decided to blame him, there was nothing more he could do. He had a hollow feeling in his chest, and though he swallowed against it, it did not go away.

"One night I was spying on Dumbledore at the Hog's Head Tavern," Snape explained. "He was interviewing an applicant for the position of Divination Professor at Hogwarts. As he was about to give her his regrets on her unsuitability for the job, she spoke a prophesy to him. I overheard part of the prophesy before I was thrown out of the establishment by its proprietor. Hoping to curry favor with my master, I hurried back and informed the Dark Lord of what I had heard. This was by far the worst thing that I have ever done, and I have regretted it ever since."

"It doesn't sound so bad," Harry hedged, concerned. Why was this seemingly innocuous act the worst thing the Potion Master had ever done?

"It was so terrible because this is the thing that I did put the dark Lord on your trail," Snape admitted, his voice hitching slightly with emotion. "The prophecy indicated that the one who could vanquish the Dark Lord had been born, and by studying the clues in the prophecy he deduced that there were two children that could have been the ones the prophecy meant. And so, the Dark Lord sought your death."

"You didn't mean to do it!" Harry denied the self-recrimination he saw in Snape's face.

"I did not," Snape agreed. "But it was done. And I had knowingly allied myself with a man who would kill without remorse. I was horrified by what I had done. My currying favor had resulted in my childhood friend and her son to be targeted by the deadliest wizard in known history."

"What did you do?" Harry asked, breathless.

"The only thing I could countenance," Snape told him, shrugging. "I went to Dumbledore and told him this information, begging him to protect your mother and yourself, and offered to become a spy to bring about the fall of the Dark Lord."

Harry nodded trying to grasp the information Snape had given him. His mind spun. Severus Snape turned spy to try and protect him and his mother?

"She died anyway,"

"Yes, she did," Snape told him, his voice becoming raw. "They put their trust in the wrong man; there was nothing more Dumbledore or I could have done."

"You stayed good, though," Harry said, his stomach roiling with emotion. "Why did you stay good?"

"Can't you guess?" Snape asked, looking Harry in the eye for the first time since he had begun his confession. "Dumbledore knew the Dark Lord would return, and that when he did you would be in terrible danger. Forcing Dumbledore to promise to never tell anyone of my involvement, I took up a position at Hogwarts and to the best of my ability, I have tried to protect my childhood friend's son."

"Me?" Harry asked incredulously. "You've been trying to protect me all along?"

"Indeed," Snape inclined his head. "And to do it in a way that nobody suspected me."

"The cursed broom, the werewolf, Black, the Tri-Wizard Tournament – you have been protecting me all along."

"I did fail with the Dursleys," Snape admitted. "And I would consider that my second greatest failure."

"It seems I owe you more than I thought," Harry told him, his eyes warm.

"Did you not hear that I was the cause of the Dark Lord knowing the prophecy?" Snape asked, incredulous at the boy's apparent forgiveness.

"You were," Harry acknowledged. "I forgive you for that, you were young and foolish. And every action since has been to make up for that mistake. That takes real courage, professor."

"Thank you, Harry," Snape replied, tears unexpectedly prickling with emotion at this foolish Gryffindor who would forgive him with such simplicity. Rather like Lily.


	7. Chapter 7 - Fighting the Good Fight

Snape liked the plan. As plans went it was fairly thought-out, and he put the chance at success at very likely. But the plan still rankled him, and he couldn't figure out what it was that disturbed him so. Was it because the plan involved the infuriating Sirius Black as well as the werewolf? Was it because Harry insisted on involving those friends of his? Or was it because it was taking on the Dark Lord directly? Was it the possibility of him losing his cover? No, that wasn't it. But he couldn't say what it actually was.

Perhaps it was the unexplained bruise he saw on Potter's cheek that morning, and the glowering he was doing across the room to Draco Malfoy. Neither boy had complained about the other, but obviously there had been some sort of altercation the day before. Harry had noticed Snape looking at the bruise, and turned his face away pointedly. He didn't want to talk about it, and Snape didn't press the issue. He would let the two rivals work out their differences for now. The plan was far more important right now.

Harry, Ron and Hermione were to fly on their brooms to the ministry, and Snape would fetch the remnants of the marauders to do the same. The first part seemed easy, it was what came next that had Snape worried.

"I'm here to fetch you," Snape called out as soon as he apparated into Number 12, Grimmauld Place. "We are under a tight schedule."

"We're ready," Lupin answered, his face set and ready.

"At last! Some action!" Sirius impatiently growled. "I'm going mad cooped up in here."

"This is not your daily constitutional," Snape snarled at him. "We are doing this for Harry, not for exercise."

"We know," Lupin answered in a peace-making tone, with a glare at Sirius. "I think it's just hard sometimes to be relegated to the sidelines when Harry risks so much."

"This is an example where the grown-ups take most of the risks," Snape answered, somewhat mollified. "Although there is some theoretical danger to Harry."

"Dying to protect my God-child is a noble death," Sirius agreed. "Today is a good day to die."

Rolling his eyes at the dramatics, Snape sneered as he handed Sirius the potion, "Only a Gryffindor would think death was the goal today. Really, people, we are trying to survive. Let's at least envision the success of none of our number dying?"

Lupin suppressed a snicker and patted Sirius on the shoulder. "Today is a good day to lay a trap for a Dark Lord," he intoned. "Are you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," Sirius nodded, holstering his wand and pocketing the potion. "Let's go rescue some kids."

. . .

Harry arrived at the Ministry on his broom, landing so that Hermione could easily land beside him. Though she was less confident on the brooms than the two boys, she landed grim-faced and determined. She knew the stakes as well as Harry and Ron, and she was determined to be where Harry needed her. Even if it involved riding one of those blasted brooms.

"It's through here," Ron directed, having gotten the layout of the Ministry from his father.

"Then let's just get it and get out," Hermione told them firmly. "Under the current administration we don't want to be caught doing this."

"I'm not sure any administration would have been okay with breaking and entering, Hermione," Harry ribbed her gently. "But perhaps we're not very popular with this one."

They made their way through corridors, and Harry had that unreal feeling of doing what he had done in a dream. Then, when they saw the door, he froze solid. He had seen the door in a dream, but seeing the small, almost invisible mark in the corner confirmed it. "That's the door," he whispered, trying to will his body to move.

"Yeah, that's it," Ron agreed. "How did you know?"

"I know," he told them, his voice heavy.

"Shouldn't we have triggered an alarm by now?" Hermione asked them, her voice pitched low.

"Not if someone turned them off for us," Harry answered. He knew he was expected; they had planned it that way. Now, he just had to do his part of it.

"Stick to the plan," he warned his friends. "In and out."

The three drew their wands, took a deep breath, and Harry pulled open the heavy door before him. He found himself walking through that terrifyingly familiar room lined with monstrous shelves and countless silvery orbs. The trio walked quietly through, following Harry's lead. The place felt oppressively quiet, as if their speaking would disturb the orbs themselves.

"It's over here," Harry whispered. "It's just like my dreams."

The other two nodded, watching carefully as they followed Harry over to the shelf. Harry looked at the orb, seemingly the same as the thousands of other orbs in the room, and knew it was the one he wanted. He felt that strong attraction to the orb, and he felt his scar heat. Voldemort was excited, and Harry knew he would soon be near.

"Let's get out of here," he said, reaching for the orb.

As soon as he hefted the weight of the glass in his hand, Harry wondered at how it felt slightly warm. Confirming that it was his from the tag, Harry reached for the leather bag he had brought just for transporting the orb.

"Now turn around, slowly," a voice came from behind him. "And give that orb to me."

Knowing the voice, Harry turned quickly with his wand drawn. A disillusionment charm melted away, revealing the luxurious menacing that was Lucius Malfoy.

"It's mine," Harry told him, his face turning stubbornly up to the man.

"Indeed," Lucius replied, his wand at the ready. "But are you willing to sacrifice your friends for it?"

"If your boss wants it that bad, then maybe I should," Harry answered him flippantly. "Besides, you don't scare me much."

As Harry said that, the black, trailing robes of other death eaters emerged from the shadows and soon Harry found himself surrounded. He could tick off many of the robed figures before him – Crabbe, Goyle, Bellatrix . . .

"He's a whelp," Bellatrix snidely commented, sizing Harry up and down. "Take the bauble from the silly half-blood, Lucius."

"Give it here, boy, and we shall let you go unharmed," Lucius promised him.

"Voldemort is a half-blood as well," Harry snarled at them. "Although now he looks like his mother mated with a snake."

Bellatrix, yelping in outrage, fired a hex at Harry. Having been practicing his blocking and spell-work with the DA the year before and with Severus over the summer, Harry easily blocked her, and he saw Ron and Hermione fire disarming spells of their own. Hundreds of orbs began crashing around them and Hermione took aim at the shelves above them.

"Run!" Harry commanded, and they sprinted off.

"After them!" Lucius commanded, and the death eaters gave chase to the trio. Harry led them back through the door and out into the ministry.

Lucius shielded himself from the falling orbs, and cursed the disrespectful teens that ran from him. Didn't they know who he was? Didn't they know what his failure could cost him? They gave chase to the teens, briefly losing sight of them and then seeing them exit the room. Gesturing to his fellow death eaters, they closed in on the trio.

Lucius ducked a blasting spell aimed at his head, and he gnashed his teeth. If only the Dark Lord hadn't forbid killing the brat! This would be so much easier with a clean Avada Kadavra!

"Crucio!" he commanded, aiming his wand at Hermione. She neatly blocked the spell with a conjured snake, much to Lucius' chagrin. He gnashed his teeth as the poor snake fell to the ground, writhing in pain, and then popped back out of existence. He didn't think Draco could have blocked his hex that well, how could that bloody mudblood do it?

Bellatrix had her hands full with that redheaded blood traitor, as the three turned to face their attackers; standing back-to-back to face the onslaught. If they hadn't been such horrendous brats Lucius would have admired their skill and their formation – they obviously had figured out how to make the most of their position. And their spellwork was getting better, if they didn't defeat this upstart soon then his power would rival that of the Dark Lord himself. Lucius knew that he himself was not that proficient at sixteen.

The spells flew fast and thick, and Lucius heard Bellatrix yowl in frustration as the Weasley brat got a blasting hex past her shield and knocked her into the wall. She rebounded in time, however, and his follow-up disarming spell failed to disarm her. Lucius focused on Harry, trying to incapacitate but not kill the young fool. Surely three underage wizards should not be able to hold off ten death eaters?

Just as Lucius thought that, he felt the rush of dark power that always accompanied the Dark Lord as his presence appeared behind him. Lucius was barely able to get himself out of the line of fire as Voldemort sent a blasting curse at the Weasley brat, disarming him and knocking him backwards. Harry, distracted by that attack, failed to block Lucius' blasting curse, and he also was knocked backward, his wand skidding along the ground beside Hermione.

Hermione froze, wand still drawn, but now calculating her odds of success. "You can have the prophecy!" she yelled at the group. "I'll get it for you. Please, just let us go."

"Get it, mudblood," Lucius commanded her, purposely not promising anything else.

Hermione, want still up, fumbled with the pouch and extracted the prophecy. She held it up, but did not give it to them.

"What assurances will I have that we will be unharmed when I give you this?" she asked.

"Give me the prophecy, you filthy mudblood," Voldemort hissed at her. "Or I kill you where you stand."

Hermione glanced at her fallen comrades and then back at the death eaters. "I'll smash it if you don't let us go," she warned.

"Go, then," Voldemort mocked. "How do you intend to save the fallen? You can't apparate, and you were too foolish to have brought a port-key."

"Let us leave," she repeated. "Let me get to the floo."

"Give me the prophecy and we'll let you go," Lucius lied smoothly. "We have no interest in you, we simply want that prophecy."

Hermione considered, looking as if she was wanting to trust them despite her better judgment. And really, what choice did she have?

"Here it is," she offered them, holding it out. Lucius approached her, his wand still drawn, and reached to take it from her hand.

Suddenly, Hermione pulled it back and then launched it, throwing it as hard as she could throw. Gasps broke out between the death eaters, and Lucius shadow-walked over to catch the sphere. As the heavy fogged glass sphere was truly in his hand, he could feel chaos erupting around him. He blinked, realizing that the rest of the Order of the Phoenix had just shown up. They had the prophecy, they needed to get out of there and get out of there fast, before someone from the ministry showed up and recognized the Dark Lord. He felt a twinge of annoyance that Voldemort had not trusted him to retrieve the prophecy and had appeared like that. The Dark Lord was able to monitor the entire interaction, and he had decided that it was worth the risk to appear.

Get out, his logical mind told him as he gripped the prophecy in his hand. He had been about to suggest retreat when he saw the inert, wandless body of the boy-who-lived. Surely they could just take him now and end all of this? What would his Lord do to reward him if he could present both the prophecy and the unconscious body of his enemy? Lucius skirted the melee which was now in full force and grabbed the Potter boy's arm, walking him back to the floo and intending to leave with him.

Voldemort, seeing the wisdom of Lucius' retreat, backed away from an advancing Arthur Weasley and headed for the floo. The other death eaters closed ranks around their Lord, fending off the spells firing at them. Suddenly, Lucius found himself thrown across the room as the inert form beside him came to life. Harry suddenly had another wand, maybe one he had hidden elsewhere on his person, and began firing at the death eaters from behind. Bellatrix fired back, forgetting that they weren't supposed to kill him, but Harry neatly blocked her spell. Then, just as the death eaters scrambled towards another floo, that one roared to life, holding the firms of two wizards; one tall and ethereal and one shorter and sterner. Lucius paled to recognize that the floo before him held both Dumbledore and Minister Fudge.

"I say, Headmaster, this is all highly irregular . . ." the Minister started, and then came face to face with the snake-like face of the man whose return he had been denying so vehemently. He was struck dumb. He barely registered as he saw the face of his trusted advisor, Lucius Malfoy, twisted in rage at being found out.

The Dark Lord, yowling in frustration at being found, fired a deadly spell at the Minister which Dumbledore blocked. Soon Dumbledore and Voldemort were in a pitched duel. Voldemort commanded a windstorm against Dumbledore, breaking the windows at the Ministry and sending a tornado of wind and debris at the man. Dumbledore shielding himself, and conjured a blizzard to fire back at Voldemort. Voldemort, yelling at Dumbledore in frustration, sent a blasting curse that Dumbledore ducked and smashed into the sculpture behind him.

"You cannot win, Tom Riddle," Dumbledore told him sternly, looking every inch the commanding headmaster.

"You know nothing, you shriveled old pretender!" Voldemort shot back. "I am unstoppable!"

With that, he formed the cyclone of wind around him, and grabbing an injured Bellatrix by her arm harshly, made his way over to the floo and vanished. Malfoy and others followed, each retreating with rage and attempted dignity.

When they had all gone, Dumbledore turned towards the minister with kindness. "Are you injured, Cornelius?" he asked solicitously.

"I'm fine," he answered, though obviously shaken.

"Was that adequate proof?" he asked, tucking his wand back in his sleeve. "Or should I try to annoy Voldemort enough to return?"

"He really is alive," Fudge echoed, scarcely believing it. "And Lucius was in on it."

"Yes," Dumbledore answered. "And if we're going to win it will take everything we have."

"Harry . . . " the Minister began.

"Yes, yes, he's fine," Dumbledore assured him, glancing at the boy and motioning for Hermione to help him up. "His friends will take him to see Madame Pomphrey. Now let's talk about what it means that Voldemort is alive . . ."

Hermione picked up Harry's wand and pocketed it. She would return it later. Helping up Ron who was starting to come around, she looked at Harry.

"I can patch that up," she told the boy. "Come, let's get back to my lab."

"How long before the Polyjuice wears off?" Ron asked, holding his head.

"Another twenty minutes or so," Hermione answered. "Let's get 'Harry' back before we give the Ministry a _serious_ shock."

"The kids will be anxious to hear how our ploy worked," Harry replied with a lopsided grin. "Did you see their surprise when I shot from behind? They thought I was helpless without my wand."

"You mean Harry's wand," Hermione corrected. "And let's get it back to him, shall we? He was most displeased that the plan was for us to replace them, I'm sure he's anxiously waiting to hear how the battle went."

"And we should get out of here before Voldemort tries to listen to that 'prophecy,'" Ron smirked.

* * *

 _AN: Can you guess who was who with the polyjuice?_


	8. Chapter 8 - Breaking the Orb

_AN: Thank you for all the great guesses! It didn't even occur to me to have Poppy or Minerva in on the fun of polyjuice, maybe next time. :) Harry was Sirius, Hermione was Snape and Ron was Lupin. And just FYI, it was the original trio at first to get the prophecy (as only Harry can remove the prophecy from the shelf) and they switched out during the chaos of the falling spheres. It should all be explained in this chapter, let me know if you have any more questions that I didn't cover. :) Thanks for all the great comments and reviews!_

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Harry wasn't used to the kind of success that this plan had had. He felt like most of the plans he had made with Ron and Hermione went haywire, or that he survived by the seat of his pants. But this – he went up against Voldemort and Voldemort didn't figure it out!

Ron, Hermione and Harry waited at Spinner's end for the others to appear, each of them praying and hoping that everyone would apparate as planned. Harry couldn't help but worry about the three men that had been polyjuiced to take their places. He wasn't sure if he was more worried about Sirius, who had taken the targeted role as Harry, or the other two who had played the more disposable roles of Ron and Hermione. Would Voldemort realize he was dealing with imposters and simply kill all three? He had passed his wand to Sirius when they had switched to help with the deception, but he knew that if the death eaters were paying proper attention or if Voldemort got a chance to use legilimency then the game would be up.

Snape had argued against using the real Ron and Hermione at all – after all, only Harry was really needed to fetch the prophecy. But Harry had argued back that if the death eaters weren't distracted by fighting that they would be able to tell. Snape had snapped that they hadn't spotted Barty Crouch, and Harry flashed back that Voldemort was far more perceptive than a bunch of hormonal teenagers. So they had compromised, and the golden trio would be together for the first part until the prophecy was retrieved, and then would create a distraction with falling prophecy orbs and switch with the fake trio. Snape felt confident about this plan because he knew the orders were not to kill Potter, and Voldemort shouldn't be annoyed enough to appear until after the switch. But it did rankle Harry – he felt as if he should be involved in the battle as well. But on this point Snape had been implacable. Snape had threatened to lock Harry in his room and do everything himself unless Harry agreed to Snape's safety measures.

"We're here!" Sirius called out barely a second after his crack of apparition.

"Sirius!" Harry yelled happily, rushing to the incoming group. It was certainly odd to see the grown men looking just like the three of them. "Professor Snape! Lupin! Everyone's alright?"

"Tonks got a bit of a cut from a spell, she's being patched up now," Lupin told him. "Kingsley took a bad one to the leg, and he's at St. Mungo's. He blocked a bad spell to the minister, probably saved his life. Bill Weasley took a bad one too, but I think it looked worse than it was. You know how head wounds bleed."

Ron gulped, paling. "Is he going to be alright?"

"Fine," Lupin assured him.

"So did you do it?" Harry asked, his eyes shining. "Was he seen?"

"Our plan was entirely successful," Snape told him. "We could not have asked for it to work better. Lupin did get knocked out at one point, and Sirius did the fainting ploy, so it was up to me to do the negotiations even though we had planned for Lupin to do them. But we were fine, I wasn't recognized."

"You should have seen it!" Sirius chimed in. "That prat Malfoy actually dragged me behind enemy lines, thinking I was helpless. I showed them! I pulled my own wand and blasted them!"

"And they got the fake prophecy, that's important," Snape confirmed. "The aurors have the information to be able to find their lair when they try to break open the orb containing the locating spell."

"And we made off with the real one," Harry confirmed, removing the sphere from its leather pouch. "How does this thing work?"

"We should wait for the headmaster," Snape told him. "He was going to join us once he got Fudge back home safe and sound."

"And had a discussion about strategies with Kingsley if he's fit again, I'd wager," Lupin grinned lopsidedly as Ron. "We have a good hour at least."

"Then let's eat some supper," Lupin suggested. "I know I'm always hungry after a good fight. Snape, do you have anything we can throw together or should I pop out for something?"

"I'll have my house elf fix something to eat and we can recount what happened," Snape nodded. "It won't be anything fancy."

"We're not Malfoy, Professor," Sirius growled with a glint in his eye. "We don't need truffled pigeon liver."

"How about a nice marrow bone to chew on?" Snape snapped back.

"Sandwiches," Harry volunteered. "I'll ask for sandwiches."

"Good lad," Remus smiled, patting his shoulder. Harry grinned at looking into the face of Ron and hearing Lupin's voice, and having him give him a fatherly pat on his shoulder.

"How long does this stuff last?" Harry asked, grinning at the very dour-looking Hermione copy.

"We have perhaps ten more minutes at the most," Snape as Hermione replied austerely. "I used a potent brew because I wasn't sure how long it would take."

"I need a haircut," Ron laughed, looking at the back of Lupin as Ron's head.

"You always need one," Hermione chided him. "But I did want to say that that plan worked well."

"You three did well," Snape nodded. "Quite well, actually. Although, I would like to discuss the wisdom of suggesting that the Dark Lord's mother had mated with a snake to his face."

Harry blushed and looked away. That hadn't been planned out, it had just come to him. "Well, I didn't really mean to do it . . ."

"And we were supposed to annoy them a little," Ron defended his friend. "I mean, weren't we supposed to make them mad so you-know-who would show up?"

"You're lucky Bellatrix didn't kill you right there," Snape scolded.

Harry's lip curled in laughter a bit, looking away. "It seems that you scolding me in Hermione's form isn't so unusual," he told his guardian.

Snape, finding humor in it himself but trying not to laugh, pressed his lips together. "Next time stick to the script," he told him firmly.

"I will," Harry promised. "We mostly did. We even crashed all of those prophecies, too. That was crazy!"

"I can't believe that all those prophecies are ruined now," Hermione mourned. "What if there were other important ones?"

"Dumbledore had the important ones removed," Lupin assured her. "Most of the ones left were already fulfilled or were of little importance. Don't worry, Miss Granger."

"Thanks," she answered, looking a bit brighter. "So how do we find out what it says?"

"We wait for Dumbledore," Snape instructed, and felt his body begin to stretch. Gratefully, he transformed his clothes back to normal as his body resumed its natural shape. He hated polyjuice, it always felt wrong to be in another form.

"You're back!" Harry exclaimed just as the house elf brought out a large plate of sandwiches and butterbeers.

"It's good to be myself again," Sirius smirked, easily snagging a sandwich and eating it heartily.

"Charming, I'm sure," Snape drawled, and helped himself to a sandwich as well. Lupin was right, fighting always worked up an appetite. The simple food tasted good and helped him feel more in touch with his body after the fear and concentration the fight had taken out of him. Any second the Dark Lord could have seen through his disguise, and then . . .

"We should have fought with you at the end," Ron was protesting as Snape realized he'd missed part of the conversation. "Think of how it would have confused them to have more than one Harry!"

"You risked enough," Snape snapped at him. "This plan could have easily gone wrong, let alone a crazy one like that."

"Dads always worry," Lupin told them with a smile, catching Snape's eye and saying it like he meant it. "Let's not press it too much, Ron. You guys did your part and got away with the prophecy, that's what was important."

"Oh, and here's your wand back," Snape handed it to Harry. "Sirius dropped it rather than being disarmed, though it shouldn't have been a problem either way really."

"Thanks," Harry said, taking the wand and then replacing it in his wand holster. "I'm glad that worked. I can't believe he didn't see through it."

"We see what we expect to see," Snape told him, his face oddly thoughtful. He thought about how much he saw based on what he expected – and how in the last year that had been turned on its head. First Harry, and now he had just used Lupin and bloody Black in a ploy against the Dark Lord. Who would have thought that two marauders would be counted as allies so many years later?

"Lucius was found out as well," Snape continued, making sure the children got the relevant information. "Fudge saw him with the Dark Lord."

"Draco is going to be mad," Harry said flatly, his hand unconsciously going to the bruise on his cheek.

"What happened with him?" Snape demanded, his sharp eyes skewering the boy.

"Nothing I can't handle," Harry replied, looking away. "Malfoy and I have never been on good terms, you know that."

"It seems to be escalating," Snape observed sharply.

Just then, a crack of apparition interrupted their conversation and suddenly Dumbledore was in the midst of them, his eyes twinkling madly. "We have won the battle!" he declared, his arms held wide. "Good work, everyone!"

"What did Fudge say?" Lupin asked, smiling wolfishly.

"I believe he apologized at least six times to me," Dumbledore smiled back. "I left him in the good custody of Auror Shacklebolt, and will be headed back in the morning for a strategy meeting. It seems we have the ministry entirely at our disposal. War has been declared."

The room cheered, and Harry found it welcome relief from thinking about Draco. The exchange of blows they had last night had been just a small expression of the animosity that was building between the two. They had never liked each other, but since school started Malfoy had seemed angrier and more targeted at Harry. This was going to make it worse. Harry thought briefly of that spell in the book he had found that had been marked "for enemies" and wondered about it. Would it neutralize an enemy in a bad way, or just stop them from being enemies?

"Harry?" he heard Snape ask sharply. "Are you paying attention?"

"Sorry," he mumbled back. "What did I miss?"

"We thought you might want to hear the words of the prophecy," Dumbledore told him, his eyes showing some concern. "Is everything alright?"

"Fine," Harry answered, pulling out the prophecy orb. "How do we listen to it?"

"You break it," Dumbledore told him. "If indeed that's what you want to do."

"Why wouldn't I want to?" Harry asked, questioning.

"Because I know what it says," Dumbledore told him softly. "I can tell you the exact words of the prophecy without breaking it."

"Leaving it unbroken means that it could fall into enemy hands," Snape countered.

"That's true," Dumbledore nodded. "It would be difficult to guard it more than it was at the Department of Mysteries. The only use it would have would be as bait."

"Then let's break it," Harry decided. "I don't want it to hang around to be bait."

Dumbledore nodded, "I think that's wise. Just throw it and break it, Harry. Unless there's someone in this room you would like to ask to leave first."

"Don't feel bad," Lupin told him carefully. "This might be a very personal prophecy. If you want just a few people here, that would be fine with any of us."

Harry considered, and then shook his head. "Everyone here I trust," she said firmly. "And everyone here has earned the right to hear this."

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked. "I mean, I'm curious myself, but I want to make sure you're sure."

"I'm sure," he told her firmly, looking at their quiet faces. They knew that this was the prophecy that got Harry's parents killed; this was the prophecy that made him an orphan. Harry took the orb, and with a face of grim determination, he threw it against the wall. Glass shattered, the smoke dissipated, and Professor Trelawney's voice filled the room:

 _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..." (_ Prophecy quoted from _Order of the Phoenix_ by JK Rowling)

The voice faded, and Harry blinked in surprise. "How do we know this is about me?"

"There were two," Dumbledore explained. "There were two boys born in July that fit the prophecy."

"Professor Snape told me that Voldemort figured that out and decided I was the child of the prophecy."

"He did," Dumbledore confirmed.

"Who was the other boy?" Harry asked, curious.

"Neville Longbottom," Dumbledore told him carefully.

Harry simply nodded. "So the Dark Lord marked me as his equal when he gave me the scar?"

"It appears so," Dumbledore answered him. "But Voldemort did not have the entire prophecy at that time. He was hoping to hear the entire thing to give him clues about defeating you."

"It's not really clear," Harry replied, trying to understand its meaning.

"What is clear is that you will die at each other's hand, and that you have a power that he knows not," Dumbledore told him, as if that was the easiest thing ever.

"What is that power?" Harry asked. "He's a pretty powerful wizard."

"Haven't you guessed?" Dumbledore smiled. "There is one thing that you understand that he has never been able to."

"I have no idea," Harry said, shifting uncomfortably. What did he have that the most powerful wizard in modern history didn't have? Unless he was far worse at potions than he had been led to believe . . .

"Look around this room," Dumbledore told Harry softly. "Every person is here in this room because they love you, Harry. You have friends that are loyal because of who you are, not that they are scared of you or want the power you promise. Voldemort cannot say that."

"Are you saying that he has social skills and the Dark Lord doesn't?" Ron asked, incredulous.

"No, he's saying that I understand love," Harry answered, understanding. "Love, friendship and loyalty. That's the power he knows not. It's how my mum protected me, and that now is our best hope of winning."

"Voldemort made a grave error the night he decided to attack you, Harry," Dumbledore told him, his voice grave and soft. "Many prophecies never come true. But him reacting to the fear of death and choosing to act on the prophecy, he has marked you and given you the capabilities to vanquish him which we otherwise might not have had."

"Can I win?" Harry asked Dumbledore, his voice raw. "He's so powerful! I'm an underage wizard whose OWLS didn't even qualify me to be an Auror."

"You can win," Dumbledore told him. "And what will win the day is the fact that you understand love, and that you also would not save your life at any cost. Voldemort was so afraid of death that he actually created an enemy capable of killing him. You are able to hear his thoughts and his strategies, and you can even understand parseltongue. He cannot even have a strong emotion without tipping you off. And through it all, you have never sought out power and ambition, not even thinking about what the Dark Arts might hold. Yes, Harry, you are qualified for this job."

"And what is more, with proper planning we can set you up for the final battle," Snape told him. "If it is going to come down to the two of you, and it is far different to enter into battle with dignity and a plan than to be hunted down and cornered. We can help you with that."

Harry looked at the professor with such love and loyalty that Snape had to blink back his own emotions. How was he going to be able to tell him about Dumbledore? And what the man had asked him to do? And how in the world was he going to help Harry prepare for taking on Voldemort himself?


	9. Chapter 9 - Burning and Separating

_AN: I know this chapter is kind of short, but I'm just finishing up the next chapter and it's much longer. Should be up in the next few days. Enjoy! Let me know what you think._

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The adults talked a bit more, and then shuffled the students off to their beds. Snape escorted the three to the Gryffindor common room, saying goodbye at the portrait.

"Get what sleep you can," he advised them. "There are precious few hours until sunrise, make use of them."

"We will," Ron agreed, stifling a yawn.

"I wish to speak to Harry alone for a moment," Snape told the other two.

"I'll be along in a moment, mate," Harry nodded to Ron. "Goodnight, Hermione."

"Goodnight, Harry," Hermione answered, pulling Ron behind herself. There seemed to be little else to say, the night had been too full of too many important things.

"Are you alright?" Snape asked quietly as his friends exited.

"I am," Harry assured the man. "But, you know, it is hard to hear it."

"It must be," Snape agreed, knowing that Harry meant the prophecy. "And to think of the task you have before you."

"Can I do it?" Harry asked, suddenly seeming like a much younger boy. "I mean, can I really kill him?"

"I believe you may be able to where the rest of us would fail," Snape told him firmly. "But you aren't alone. I intend to help you."

"I'm just a kid," Harry told him, the fringe of his hair hanging over his eyes. "He's like, well, isn't he the worst wizard of all time? And I'm supposed to kill him?"

"This would definitely seem like a David and Goliath situation," Snape nodded.

"A what?"

"Did those blasted muggles not add anything to your education?" he sighed. "Though the Dark Lord might seem much more powerful, it is not always the most powerful that wins the day. You have proven that yourself."

"Do you think so?" he asked, warming to unexpected praise.

"How many times have you gone against the Dark Lord now?" Snape asked him carefully. "He has yet to win."

"He wasn't at full power yet," Harry told him.

"And neither were you," Snape told him. "We will continue to work hard and develop your skills. I think that you will find that . . ."

Snape wasn't able to finish, because Harry suddenly gave a yelp of pain and doubled over, clutching his scar. His cries tore roughly from his throat, and Snape worried that he was being killed. He found himself supporting a crying Potter, wondering if the teen's head would actually explode. Conjuring a pack of ice, he held it to the child's forehead to see if that would help.

"It hurts!" Harry gasped. "He's so angry!"

"Control your mind," Snape told him, his voice as gentle as he could make it while forcing himself not to panic. "Control your emotions. Block it out."

"I can't," Harry panted. "He's furious! He's killed someone now too. I think it was the Auror that followed the trace. Oh, and he's mad that the aurors got a few of his men. Oh, Bellatrix is injured. He's howling and apparating away."

"You can see him?" Snape asked, paling. He did not realize the connection was this close.

"Not usually unless I'm sleeping," Harry told him, trying to catch his breath. "Just sometimes when he's angry. I've never felt him like this."

"Is it still hurting?" Snape asked.

"A bit," Harry admitted. "The ice helped. He's still angry, but he's also . . . something else. Not scared. Maybe worried? That doesn't hurt as much."

"He's figured out that the orb was a fake," Snape surmised, his lips curling up a bit with success. "Looks like our plan worked."

"Oh!" Harry gasped, doubling over again. "Oh! He's figured it out!"

"Come with me," Snape told him, walking him back towards his office. "I have a potion that might help in my quarters."

"What about Ron?"

"Don't worry, I'll send him a note via a house elf," Snape told him. "Come along."

Harry allowed himself to be carried blindly, barely being able to walk from the pain in his head. He found himself lowered to a sofa, a fresh ice bag pressed to his forehead, and a blanket tucked around him. He began to wonder at Snape when he felt a potion being pressed to his lips. This felt more familiar – even in his distress there would be some form of torture. And this torture tasted like dirty socks.

"Bleh!" Harry gasped after downing the vial of potion. "Do you actually try to make them taste that vile?"

"Endless complaints get you nowhere," Snape told him brusquely. "How do you feel now?"

"Better," Harry nodded. "What was it?"

"A potion that I thought might help," Snape answered. "It makes your mind fuzzy, less attuned. You will have to stay here tonight."

"Here?" Harry asked, feeling a bit dizzy. "Is this in my potion book?"

"It's of my own invention," Snape told him gently. "I have been working on it in case you had an evening like tonight."

Harry wanted to feel touched and warm, but somehow felt his emotions floating away and not connecting with anything. "Why do I have to stay with you?" Harry asked, wondering what it would be like to do that. Would Snape really be okay with him being in his quarters? All night? Though Harry had lived with the man at his house in the summer, Snape had been reticent on having Harry spend too much time in his quarters at Hogwarts.

"You are in no state to go anywhere else," Snape told him, waving his wand and transforming the sofa he was laying on into a narrow bed. He knew that the boy would rather be in the tower with his mates, but after the encounter with the Dark Lord and then having his forehead in that much pain, Snape couldn't stand the idea of him being out of his eyesight. Harry felt his head relax into the pillow, and he felt loose and sleepy.

"Empty your mind," Snape told him. "Relax into it."

"I would be better off thinking about something else," Harry told him. "Give me something else to think about."

"Very well," Snape told him, deciding to press his advantage. "How about you tell me what is going on between you and Malfoy."

Harry squirmed. That was one topic he definitely did not want to talk about, no matter how decent Snape was being to him. Even with him making a bed in his own quarters. Though Harry knew it was imposing, he felt safer with Snape than he did up in the tower. At least if something happened Snape always knew what to do. "I think it's unfair to interrogate me when I am in my weakened condition," he dissembled.

"Likely," Snape smirked. "You know it really is quite foolish for you to waste Malfoy like that."

"Waste him?"

"Absolutely. You're wasting him with your foolish vendettas and fistfights."

"Fistfights?" Harry protested. "I think that's . . . I mean it wasn't like that . . ."

"You're wasting him," Snape repeated. "Malfoy is in a unique position. His father was tasked with retrieving that prophecy about you, and will likely be punished for his failure. My guess is that he will be punished through Draco."

"Why would that be?" Harry asked, confused.

"Because he's all his parents truly care about," Snape sighed. "The threat has been used before. Draco is ripe for influence, and in time that could lead to the entire Malfoy clan."

"He's a git," Harry replied, his tongue loosened by the medicine.

"Perhaps," Snape nodded. "But he could still be useful. But only if you are able to get yourself over this personal vendetta you have with him."

"Personal vendetta?" Harry echoed, becoming defensive. "Do you know what the bas . . . idiot did to me?"

"Do enlighten me."

"Well, I was trying to see what he might be up to, so I was hiding from him when he was talking to some of his cronies . . ."

"With your invisibility cloak, no doubt," Snape encouraged.

Harry, the medicine making him oblivious to the tone Snape was developing with him, continued with his righteous indignation. "And he figured out that I was there, somehow. And he stunned me and kicked me in the face. I was stuck there until a third year Hufflepuff found me."

"How inconvenient," Snape agreed. He knew he couldn't hold Harry responsible for what he confessed while under the effects of the potion, but there was also some value in learning what was actually happening. Though he would be having a stern conversation with the miscreant tomorrow morning.

"He's a git," Harry repeated emphatically. "Nothing redeemable about him."

"I see," Snape nodded. "But here's where I would like you to listen to me, and try to clear your mind from the fuzziness for a moment."

"I'll try," Harry promised.

"Try picturing your mind and body connecting again," Snape advised him.

"Not easy," Harry smiled, still floating.

"I need you to understand that this isn't just about your childish vendetta that started when you were barely eleven," Snape told him carefully. "I would like you to try and get him on our side."

"Impossible!" Harry exclaimed. "Never happening."

Snape sighed. He should talk to the boy when he wasn't under the influence of the potion.

"I'm feeling like I'm floating above my body," Harry told him wondrously.

"Dissociation isn't exactly a side effect," Snape told him. "It's rather the point. Lie down and . . . let it go if you can. That dissociation makes it so nobody can invade your thoughts."

"With the way it makes me feel someone could ask me almost anything."

"Interesting," Snape echoed. "Perhaps you could tell me why you are so much better at Potions this year. Better than you were over the summer, even."

"So tired," Harry replied, faking a yawn. "Growing boy needs his sleep."

"Growing boy indeed," Snape answered, a ghost of a smile on his lips remembering that night when Harry first stole the Murtlap. "Goodnight then, Murtlap thief."

"Goodnight," he answered sleepily, looking very much like the boy he was. As he was drifting and floating above his body, he latched on to one thought that he had had when Snape was talking to him. There was no way that he would turn Draco. Maybe use that spell on him that the Half Blood Prince suggested, but nothing else.


	10. Chapter 10 - Casting the Unknown

Harry didn't now why he had done it. He stood in the bathroom with Draco's blood at his feet, and he felt frozen in shock and remorse. Though he had meant harm to the boy who had attacked him and attempted the Cruciatus curse on him, he didn't mean this kind of harm. Harry felt his body hold unmovable and he felt almost as if he were watching the scene from above. This felt as real as watching a show on the telly.

And then, as Harry stood there in shock and a sense of no reality, Snape was there. Snape sang a spell over the bleeding Malfoy, closing the gashes and stopping the blood. Harry's hand shook as he watched, feeling frozen to the spot.

"I'm taking Mr. Malfoy to the infirmary," Snape told him firmly. "Then I will speak to the headmaster. Wait for me in my office."

Harry, unable to speak and merely in a daze, obeyed. He couldn't think to do anything else. His legs woodenly propelled him towards the office, and later he would realize that he couldn't remember the actual journey to the office, just the cold terror of arriving there. What was going to happen to him? What was going to happen to Draco? Would he be arrested and sent to Azkaban?

Suddenly all of the childish not wanting to tell Snape about the book and the Half-blood Prince seemed just that: childish. His not wanting to tell anything incriminating and resulted in this – the worst thing that he had ever done. He wasn't an idiot – he saw how fast Draco was losing blood. If it hadn't been for Snape's quick action the other boy would have died.

Nausea hit Harry like a wave and his muscles convulsed, and Harry found himself sicking up into the sink in the back of the potions laboratory. He cried out as his stomach emptied itself, and weakly wiped his mouth of the foulness. Running the water to clear the sink, he rinsed his mouth and forced his stomach to calm itself.

 _Snape_ , he told himself hopefully. Snape has helped him out of sticky situations before. If anybody could help him, it would be Snape. Dumbledore would be kind but hopeless, and try to let him stay at Hogwarts to save him. McGonagall would be stern but at a loss. Only Snape could help him now, he knew it. With a grimace he knew that it would likely result in a very extensive and painful punishment, but Snape wouldn't kill him. Everything else was not as bad, and in fact Harry squirmed to realize that he actually deserved it. In all justice, he would have no grounds to protest if Dumbledore took the cane to him. This was probably one of those situations that Snape had referred to when he said he couldn't promise never to cane him. Shivering, he just hoped it would be over soon. That is, if he was actually punished at Hogwarts and not sent directly to Azkaban. The thought of that made his blood run cold.

Harry sat down and put his head between his knees, not trusting himself to sit up. His head swam with dizziness. Arguments sped through his head, arguing that Malfoy was trying to use the Cruciatus and he deserved what he got. Harry's stomach wrenched at that argument, though, and he knew how hollow it was. He knew he had no right to use an unknown curse on anyone, even someone attempting the cruciatus. He could hear Hermione's warning in his head, and he ruefully acknowledged how right she was. The curse could have done anything, it could have been even worse than it was. Why would the Half-blood Prince have it marked "for enemies" if it wasn't bad? Snape would never believe that defense, and he knew that he would lose the man's respect for even trying.

Somewhere in the cloud of worry and anxiety, he knew what he would have to do to weather this with Snape. He had to commit to absolute honesty with the man. He had missed the mark by hiding the book for the past few months, and now he would do whatever he could to rectify the situation. And it would start by presenting Snape with the book.

Pulling the shrunken book out of his pocket, he resized it and placed it and held it for a moment. In the few short months that he had had with this book he had become good at potions for the first time ever. He had so wanted Snape to think he was good at something, especially Potions. Harry sighed, his hand tracing the book. Again, he wondered at who the Half-blood Prince could have been. Could he have known his parents? Could he still be alive? Ron's voice in his head argued that he was probably some death eater somewhere that had killed loads of people, but Harry just couldn't agree with that. Surely a man this good at potions while he was in school had to be good, even in the light of the curse that he'd just used.

Snape left the Headmaster's office feeling calmer than he had before, but still dreading the coming interview with his ward. Or his almost ward. Snape sighed, and rubbed the fingers on one hand together as he clicked his way menacingly along the hallway towards his office. He was not sure yet the Harry he was going to find in his office. Would he be angry and defiant and require a firm and strict guardian? Or would he be tearful and repentant, and require a stern but patient approach? How would he react to the agreed-upon punishments? And how was Snape supposed to be that stern guardian when he really just wanted to check Harry for injuries and find out what happened.

He swept into his office, startling the boy who seemed intent on sitting his his head between his knees. Snape recognized the position of someone feeling like they might faint, and so crossed off the angry and defiant version of Harry in this scenario. No tears either, Snape observed silently, wondering what kind of Harry he was going to get.

"Hello, sir," Harry greeted him politely, nodding his head.

"Hello, Mr. Potter," Snape returned the greeting, austerely standing above the miscreant. "I must say that I am most disappointed to be in this position with you today."

"Yes, sir," Harry acknowledged, watching the man sit behind his desk. "I am so sorry. Sorrier than you could know." Harry felt his voice wavering, and so he stopped talking and looked down. Somehow he thought he could be more eloquent when he thought about how to start this conversation.

"I see that," Snape answered neutrally. Harry's remorse wasn't lost on him either. He could smell the faint scent of vomit in the room, as well as seeing how close Harry was to tears and how with is body language he was expecting the beating to begin at any time. "I have heard Mr. Malfoy's version of events, in great detail, and I would ask for yours now."

Harry nodded, appreciating that Snape was giving him the opportunity to explain. And Snape wasn't yelling . . . yet, anyway. If only he had a good defense he might persuade the dour Potions Master.

"I've been trying to keep an eye on Malfoy," Harry told him. "I know you wanted me to influence and befriend him, but I don't trust him. And in the last month he's become so secretive, and spends loads of time by himself. So I decided to follow him this time. And he went to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, so I waited outside. I thought maybe he had figured out how to open the Chamber of Secrets."

Snape nodded, not an unreasonable assumption. Snape battled his irritation at Harry's insistence that Draco had been up to bad things and his refusal to befriend the wretch, but he knew this was not the time for that conversation. He could sense the boy was trying to be as honest as possible, and he appreciated it. He did not want a petty argument to get in the way of that.

"I waited outside for a while," Harry said. "But then, well, I heard him crying. He was complaining to Myrtle about something, and I think she may have been trying to help him. I decided that I didn't want to lurk outside anymore so I went inside and confronted him. Before I could say much, he started the Cruciatus curse and I countered with a new spell I hadn't used before. I stopped him from finishing his curse, but I . . . damaged him. You were there moments later and you saved him. And me."

"And where did you find this new spell?" Snape asked, though he knew. The new cover on the potions book in the boy's lap didn't fool him, and he felt the self-recriminations rise in his mind even as he fought to remain neutral.

"In this book," Harry offered.

"A new cover on an old book," Snape observed.

Harry had the decency to flush, and look down. "I borrowed an old book from the potions cupboard when the term started, sir," he explained. "There were notes in the margins and several suggestions. When I followed those directions on the first day I brewed the Draught of the Living Death perfectly, and I was awarded a prize by Professor Slughorn. When my own book arrived, I swapped the covers so I could keep this older text because it was so helpful. I put my newer text back in the cupboard."

"Did it occur to you that there might be problems with stealing this book?" Snape asked, his eyes flashing.

"No, sir," Harry admitted, blanching. "I thought it was kind of old and forgotten. And the Half-blood Prince . . ."

"The what?" Snape asked incredulously.

"The Half-blood Prince is what the bloke called himself," Harry explained. "You know, the guy who made the notes."

"It sound s as if you've become fond of him."

"He, well, he's right good at potions," Harry tried to explain. "But it's more than that. I dunno, I guess you can't really know someone by the notes they make in a book, but I found that I sort of, well, liked him."

"Liked him?"

"Sure!" Harry agreed enthusiastically. "He was snarky and arrogant, but he also knew his stuff. He began to feel almost like a . . . well, like a friend." Harry's face fell. He now knew that the boy who had helped him become brilliant at potions was also the one that nearly cost Draco his life.

"Was the spell for what you did to Mr. Malfoy written by this person?" Snape asked neutrally.

"Yes, sir," Harry answered miserably. "The Half-blood Prince said that the spell was for enemies."

"And so you used an unknown spell on your enemy as he was getting ready to use the Cruciatus on you?" Snape asked. "Are you insane?"

Harry blinked at Snape, not expecting such a direct comment.

"Uh . . ." Harry began.

"What if the spell had done nothing? Or had shaved off your enemy's eyebrows?" Snape growled. "Then where would you have been?"

Harry had been so consumed with guilt that he didn't even think of it as a horrible tactic in his own defense. He had just wanted to use that spell so much, and that had seemed like the perfect opportunity. What if Malfoy had succeeded in using the Cruciatus on him?

"Never mind that you actually used a completely unknown spell on a fellow student with no regard for their safety," Snape smoothly continued. "Were you of age we would have no choice but to call the Aurors and resign you to trial and most likely Azkaban. And even for an underage wizard, that in and of itself is punishable by being expelled."

Harry blanched, and looked down. He knew that he deserved it, but he just couldn't quite bring himself to believe that it would be over. No more running to class with Ron, no more studying with Hermione, no more Quidditch . . . Harry felt the tears become harder to fight.

"Although, as I am sure you are aware, the Headmaster was quite reluctant to expel you given your . . . extraneous circumstances. So here we have arrived at what to do with you."

"Yes, sir," Harry mumbled miserably. Was this where they made arrangements for him to live with Hagrid and take over as gamekeeper?

"There is an alternative that is sometimes offered to being expelled," Snape explained, his voice lowering. "And Professor McGonagall, the Headmaster and I agreed to it and to defer your being expelled for the time being."

"Is it the cane, sir?" Harry asked, blanching even further. Even though he knew this was much better than being expelled, his body quaked at the thought.

"It is," Snape confirmed. "And it was decided that I would administer your punishment. It was decided that a dozen strokes would suffice."

 _AN: I know this is a cliffhanger, but I decided to break the chapter in half to both get this chapter posted sooner and to prevent having a chapter that was over twice as long as other chapters. I promise the second half will be up tomorrow as soon as I finish editing it._


	11. Chapter 11 - Accepting the Consequences

Harry nodded, trying to appear brave. "It's better, coming from you," Harry agreed. "I know you won't . . . really hurt me. I mean, beyond the obvious stripes." He thought of that boy's bum he'd seen striped while he was in muggle school and shivered, knowing that's what was about to happen to him.

"I refused," Snape admitted blandly. He had thought carefully about how to tell Harry about his punishment, and he wanted Harry to at least fear the cane so that he could recognize the mercy granted him. But he also knew there was no way he could stomach punishing the boy in such a way. It really didn't matter what the boy had done to deserve it.

"You what?" Harry asked incredulously.

"I refused," he reiterated. "Though the cane was justice in theory, I found that I could not bring myself to apply it to you. The Headmaster and your Head of House found themselves equally reluctant to inflict this punishment."

Snape delivered this news with a calm voice, but in reality it had been an agonizing decision and a spirited debate with McGonagall and Dumbledore. They all knew that in all truth, the boy deserved a very harsh punishment. And it's not like the cane would kill him, and it was what would be expected in this situation. But in the end Snape decided that it had more to do with him than it had to do with Harry, he just hadn't been able to stomach inflicting it upon Harry. He, well, he may as well admit that he was certainly beginning to care for the boy. How could he inflict a harsher punishment upon him than given by his abusers? And his own experience with the cane, especially his schooling pre-Hogwarts, had made it so that he could never have borne to do it to a student, least of all Harry. He knew he could have made choices to make it less brutal – such as using a lighter cane and putting a book under his arm, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

"So I'm to be expelled?" Harry asked, starting to panic.

"No," Snape told him carefully. "You will not. I proposed that in addition to your detentions that I would handle the physical part of your punishment. I decided that your punishment would be a spanking that would include twelve with the paddle. It will still be a harsh punishment, Harry, but it should not mark you."

"Detentions as well?" Harry asked weakly, nodding and relieved though still nervous.

"Every Saturday morning for the rest of the term," Snape nodded. "With me or Filch, whichever is convenient."

"No Quidditch then," Harry nodded, looking very pathetic. "I deserve it."

Snape, his heart being moved to pity at the boy before him, sighed. The poor lad had lost so much already. "I am not unfeeling," Snape told him. "In exchange for three additional strokes with the paddle, I will consent to your rescheduling your detention to Saturday evenings if you have a game that day."

"Thank you," he nodded. "So I have a choice between Quidditch or the after-party."

"You seem very confident of your team's ability to win," Snape countered. "Perhaps you will miss the mourning afterwards."

Harry's lips twitched, and Snape's snarky remark more than anything made him feel as if he were going to survive this ordeal.

"At least if they're mourning it's not my fault for getting detentions," Harry smirked.

"Perhaps," Snape answered, agreeing. "Perhaps it is all part of a ploy to help my house win the Quidditch cup. Let me know which you'd prefer."

"I accept your offer for the evening detentions, and thank you," Harry replied formally. "And I thank you too, sir, for what you have done for me. I know that almost any other student doing what I had done would be facing much harsher consequences."

"I believe you will think these consequences harsh enough," Snape intoned. "Remove your robe."

Nodding, Harry jumped to obey. He found his lips feeling numb in trepidation, and he quickly divested himself of his robe. "Over the desk or your lap, sir?" he asked, trying to prevent his voice from shivering.

"Your choice," Snape told him, opening the closet that held the paddle.

"Your lap, then," Harry told him with some relief. At least he would have the comfort of touching the man during his punishment.

"Alright," Snape removed the paddle, somewhat surprised at the boy's choice.

Most students found being spanked on his lap an additional humiliation and always opted for the desk if given the choice. But he was relieved too in a way, even though using the paddle on a student in his lap made it more difficult to get the right angle with the long, sturdy board. But, at least he would have the comfort of touching the boy when he had to dole out the punishment. He already felt like an ogre, maybe having the boy on his lap would help. He also knew what the students didn't know – having the child on his lap restricted his swing a bit, resulting in a less painful stroke.

Snape settled himself on the sofa in his office, and beckoned Harry wordlessly over. Harry, trying to seem brave, nodded and placed himself over the man's lap. The sofa helped support his head and shoulders, and he was thankful he chose this method. His stomach clenched as Snape settled him across his bony knees, his toes barely touching the floor.

"Are you going to use your hand too?" Harry asked, his voice a bit shaky but trying not to sound nervous.

"I am," Snape replied. "There is no way I could give you that many strokes with a paddle without using my hand first. You would be bruised."

"Oh, okay," Harry replied, trying to sound as if he wasn't as nervous as he was. "And I suppose I deserve it."

"You do," Snape confirmed. "Now hold still."

Snape could feel the boy's trepidation hum throughout his body, and smiled inwardly as the lad tried to project a bravery he didn't fully feel. Snape had to admire his bravery, facing fifteen with a paddle was no small feat when the most the boy had had before this was six, and that had smarted enough. He held the boy close to his torso, and began to apply his hand with vigor. He yelped as his hand slapped down on the upturned bottom, covering the entire thing with crisp, measured smacks. Harry yelped and jumped a bit, especially as he slapped the underside of his bottom, but they both knew that Snape was not applying as much force as he could have been.

"And now for the paddle," Snape intoned firmly, picking up the aforementioned instrument.

"Can't you just do it softly?" Harry asked, tears in his voice. "You know, and said that you spanked me?"

"That would be lying," Snape told him. "I told the others I would punish you, and anything less than decent strokes would be dishonest."

"Okay," Harry agreed, trying to sound brave.

"I will let you count after each stroke," he told Harry, trying to give him a concession. "I won't give you the next one until you've counted the previous one. We don't have to do this quickly; we have all night if we need it."

Harry nodded, worrying his bottom lip but feeling somewhat better.

"Don't worry," he assured the teen, patting his back in what he hoped was an assuring manner. "We'll get through this."

Harry believed him up until the first smack. It hit with a dizzying sting, and Harry found his knees kicking at the impact. How was he going to survive fifteen of these? How much worse would a cane have been?

"One," Harry said carefully, trying to control his breathing.

And so it went, harsh swat fell and Harry counted it when he was ready to go to the next one. At swat seven Harry took several moments, trying to control his tears as they flooded his eyes.

"It's perfectly fine to cry," Snape told him firmly and without a trace of sarcasm. "This is meant to be a painful punishment."

Harry broke then, not by the harshness of the paddle but by the kindness of the man wielding it. How easy it would have been to scorn or to mock the boy being punished, and Harry had expected at least anger and condemnation. But instead Snape was showing him compassion and mercy, even making it okay for him to be week and cry. Harry sobbed into the man's robes, and most of the sobbing had very little to do with the pain. Most of it had to do with the fear and the horror of what he had done.

"Seven," Harry counted, his sobs slowing and bracing himself.

Snape smacked the boy's backside harshly, forcing himself not to soften the blow. His sense of honor dictated that he did punish the boy as agreed upon by Dumbledore and McGonagall, but he also found himself wishing he didn't have to do it. The first time he used the paddle on the boy he had been angry and self-righteous, bent on teaching the brat that had been a thorn in his side a lesson. The second time he had felt justified and angry as well, and his sense of violation and justice had fueled it. This time he just felt worried and sad. Of course the boy should not have used that spell, but his obvious remorse and his willingness to be honest had impressed the dour Potions Master. He found himself unenthusiastic about inflicting this punishment.

Harry yelped, tears still dripping down his face, but he seemed to have pulled himself together better. "Eight."

Slowly they plodded towards twelve, with several minutes between each stroke at the end.

"I think your remaining three strokes can be given at your first detention," Snape announced, seeing the boy struggle to say twelve.

"No," Harry answered, controlling his sobs. "I've had much worse. You can finish."

"I don't think past abuse justifies me abusing you now," Snape told him sharply.

"It's not that bad, professor," Harry smirked. "It's not abuse. I mean, it stings a lot and I'm probably going to be pretty sore tomorrow, but I already have a sore butt. What's a few more strokes now?"

"Are you sure, Harry?"

"I'm sure," Harry nodded. "Three more and then it's over. I'd rather have it over than dread it. Twelve."

Snape still hesitated, and Harry felt that hesitation.

"C'mon, Professor," Harry tried to tease, wiping his face. "It's not like I don't deserve it. And surely I don't have to convince you to whack a Gryffindor a little more."

Snape smirked at the humor that Harry showed, feeling somewhat better. Surely if the boy was joking he wasn't emotionally broken from a harsh punishment. He slammed the paddle into the already sore backside of the young Gryffindor, eliciting a hiss and a a kick. Harry took the last two strokes quickly, screwing up his face and enduring the sting. When it was over he relaxed over Snape's lap, making no motion to get up, just letting the tears come and half-way hugging Snape's knees.

Harry lay across the man's lap and didn't want to get up. He heard the mumbled spell that banished the paddle, and he waited for the command to get up and wipe his tears. The command didn't come, and Harry found himself curling up, his head on the man's lap. The immediate sting on his backside started to fade into a duller throb, and still he wordlessly laid on the couch beside the Potions Master. He would have died of embarrassment to be found like this, and he couldn't look at the man's face for the shame of it. But being able to touch the man's leg after enduring such a harsh punishment felt so good, and he couldn't pull himself away. Surprisingly, he found a freshly laundered handkerchief pressed into his hand, which he quickly made use of. He expected to be told to get off or even just pushed off harshly, but instead Snape put his hand on Harry's shoulder. It wasn't a hug or even a pat, but it was . . . contact. They stayed there for several moments, Harry bringing his breathing under control with just the occasional hitch. The worst was over, he knew, and it would go back to normal. It would go back to him not needing to have his head on his professor's lap for comfort.

"There is something I need to tell you," Snape said softly, not removing his hand but moving it to Harry's back.


	12. Chapter 12 - Chatting and Confessing

"Hmm?" Harry asked, hoping that it wasn't what he thought it was. Surely the man was going to regret his offer of guardianship now. Harry grimaced, but waited. It was better to hear the words for himself, however much he wished it wasn't true.

"I'm not sure if you know this, but I'm not a pureblooded wizard."

"You're not?" Harry asked, incredulous. Whatever he had expected the man to say, this wasn't it.

"I'm not," Snape confirmed. "You can imagine how difficult Slytherin was to navigate for me when I first came to Hogwarts. Even though I hated my muggle father and would gladly agree with the pro-Voldemort rhetoric, I was never fully trusted by the purebloods that surrounded me. That, and my friendship with a young Gryffindor named Lily, made it very difficult for me to fit in."

"Did they call you Mu . . . bad names?"

"They did," Snape confirmed. "And even calling me 'Snape' felt bad too, because that was the name of my abusive muggle father. So in my head I called myself by my mother's maiden name."

"What's that?"

Harry could hear the man's hesitation, and he answered, "Prince."

Harry didn't understand why this felt like such a revelation, but obviously he was not getting something. He heard Snape sigh.

"You will have to get rid of the book," Snape told him carefully.

Harry sighed, but he had known that. "I know," he replied. "But I can kiss my Potions grade goodbye. It's what made me so great."

"Perhaps if you cannot use the book some added tutoring will be helpful."

"You would be willing to do that?"

"Apparently I have been tutoring you unwittingly this whole year so far."

"What?" Harry asked, confused.

Snape sighed again, wishing this boy would be at least slightly more of a Slytherin. Did he really need to be this plain?

"Harry," he said evenly. "I am the Half-Blood Prince."

"You're what?" he asked, sitting up in shock. Snape saw the boy wince as his bottom hit the couch, but the shock viewed plainly on his face.

"That is my Potions book that you stole," Snape told him. "I must have left it in the cupboard when Slughorn took over."

"So you invented that spell?"

"I did," Snape nodded gravely, wishing it wasn't the case. "And the counter-curse, much to your fortune."

Harry swallowed and nodded. He looked into those unblinking obsidian eyes, and once again was thankful for this man. "You saved my arse."

"And then handed it to you," the man replied, his eyes glinting.

Harry, realizing that his with his throbbing bottom he was going to need to either lay down again or stand up, opted to lay down again. He found his professor put his hand back on Harry's back again, somewhat hesitantly.

"You felt like a friend," Harry told him. "You were brilliant, even when you were my age."

"I was angry and confused," Snape admitted to the boy. Why was he sitting there like a bloody Hufflepuff with the boy actually lying on his lap? Calmly talking about his adolescence? Shouldn't there be yelling by now?

"I'll bet ol' Snake face liked that spell when you told it to him."

"He did," Snape admitted, then added formally, "I regret that I inadvertently taught it to you, however."

"Perhaps I should tell Dumbledore it was your fault," Harry smirked. "Maybe you'll get your bum whacked."

"You are quite cheeky for a thoroughly punished boy," Snape told him, a little outraged. Shouldn't the child be weeping and cursing him? Shouldn't he be ranting about the injustice and the betrayal to find out that he was the one who had accidently taught him the spell in the first place?

"There's relief that it's over and that you forgive me," Harry answered soberly. "I think that's the worst thing I ever did."

"It certainly beats nearly exposing our world by driving an enchanted car to school," Snape confirmed.

"I'm surprised you didn't whack me then," Harry smirked.

"It was a near thing," Snape told him. "But McGonagall was there, and it truly wasn't my place. I probably should have called her the night I found you in my potions cupboard, but I was just so sick of you getting away with everything. She was cross with me when she found out later that I had treated you like a Slytherin."

Harry laughed, thinking of his aged head of house scolding the younger and much taller professor about spanking him.

"Why didn't you . . . never mind." Harry asked, and then hesitated.

"What?" Snape asked.

"You don't have to answer if you don't want," Harry hedged.

"Just ask, you silly child," Snape snapped.

"Why didn't you cane me?" Harry asked. "I mean, I'm very grateful that you didn't, but I can't help but wonder why not. That was what you'd agreed I deserved."

Snape sighed, not sure how much to tell the lad. Well, he had honored Snape with some honesty, so maybe Snape would return the favor a little. After all, if he was going to become this boy's guardian, wouldn't it be good to show some trust?

"I didn't cane you because of how I'd been caned as a boy," Snape answered. "And I couldn't bear to do that to you."

There was a pause, and Harry said with some trepidation, "I know that Hogwarts was different then."

"It wasn't Hogwarts," Snape confirmed. "Though I did have the cane a few times here, it was generally well-deserved and not abusive. But it was different growing up."

"You don't have to tell me," Harry answered quietly.

"I know that," Snape snapped, and then sighed. "You have to understand, Harry, that I lived in a very poor part of town. You mother lived a half mile away and it was completely different, but even then her parents paid to send her to school elsewhere, whereas my parents could not afford it. The school in my neighborhood was very rough and difficult, and it did not attract the best teachers and administrators. The headmaster had a particular . . . dislike for me. I was routinely caned for the slightest perceived infraction, and sometimes it was quite brutal."

"Did you tell anyone?" Harry asked.

"Who was there to tell?" Snape sighed. "If I told my father I would just get what he termed 'double at home.' And let me tell you, the strap on top of the cane was what you might call a . . . unique agony. The teachers just saw a strict disciplinarian trying to keep order at a rough school, and a strange and unkempt child complaining. It was different then, Harry. Nobody saw a problem with a harsh caning, even if it drew blood."

"What about your mum?" Harry asked, and then bit back his words. How did he have the bravery to ask a question like that?

"She would brew salves for me when my father wasn't looking," Snape reminisced. "But she couldn't always manage. One of the worst things about a caning was sitting on it for the next week. But for her it was about survival, not anything else. She had chosen foolishly for a marriage partner after she had found out I was on the way, and had paid the price ever since. Her family wouldn't take her back."

"Did Lily know?"

"Your mum knew I wasn't happy there," Snape told him. "She knew I was anxious for Hogwarts. I spared her the details."

"What about Dumbledore?"

"He figured it out the first time he caned me," Snape replied. "Granted, the punishment was deserved and he was more than fair about it, but by my reactions he knew."

"What did he do?"

"Offered me a cuddle and a lolly," Snape answered with a snarl.

"Sounds nice," Harry answered, sinking back a little further into his almost cuddle.

"Perhaps for a Hufflepuff," he answered, then sighed. "I had no idea what to make of the man. He also never caned me again, preferring other methods when he needed to correct me."

"We should talk about other methods," Harry said cheekily.

"Of course," Snape replied smoothly. "Should you get your toothbrush to clean my floor? Of course, Dumbledore was always more inventive than that."

"Like what?" Harry asked, intrigued.

"Like making me tutor young Hufflepuffs in Potions, or tidying the Gryffindor common room. But the worst he only saved for special occasions."

"The worst?" Harry asked, intrigued. "Was it cleaning bubotubers?"

"No," Snape said. "That would have been a picnic in comparison. No, he made me talk about my feelings."

Harry laughed, and found Snape pat his back in a friendly way as he did so. Though Snape was serious and he was horrified at having to talk with Dumbledore about feelings, he also realized the humor of the situation. Only a private Slytherin like him would have found discussing his feelings so horrifying.

"You have one more consequence that we have not discussed yet," Snape told him carefully, keeping his hand on the boy's back.

"Feelings?"

"No, nothing quite that horrible," Snape smirked. "But you need to apologize to the object of your unknown spell."

"I have to apologize to Draco?" he asked, incredulously.

"Yes," Snape answered simply. "I believe while he is still in the infirmary tomorrow morning before breakfast will be best."

"Is he getting in trouble too?" Harry asked.

"Why do you ask?" Snape arched an eyebrow.

"I may have cast an unknown, but he knew what he was casting would harm me," Harry argued. "And he cast first, I just defended myself."

"And you don't think being sliced open was punishment enough?" Snape asked sardonically.

Blushing, Harry mumbled, "I suppose so."

"And if you had cast one of the dozens of defensive spells that you have been schooled in, do you think you would have ended up over my knee?"

"No," Harry admitted.

"Then why did I punish you?"

"Because it was an unknown," Harry admitted. "And I sliced him open."

"You were punished because you put both Draco and yourself at risk," Snape pointed out. "If it had been a worthless spell or a prank spell Draco would have out-dueled you and you would have suffered the Cruciatus."

"I suppose you're right," Harry admitted.

"Then trust me to deal with Draco," Snape told him. "I'm not generally known for being overly permissive on discipline."

"Do I really have to apologize?" Harry asked, his voice not whiny but just young and soft.

"Unfortunately, yes," Snape told him. He felt equal reluctance for a conversation he was going to have to have as well. Though Harry had been meaning to be cheeky in his threat to tell Dumbledore, Snape knew that was a hard conversation he was going to have to have with the Headmaster. Perhaps he should be grateful that Dumbledore wouldn't cane him, but he wasn't joking about the fact that he found having talk about emotions to be even more horrifying.

And so the two sat together on the sofa, each thinking about the morning, and taking what comfort they could out of their contact.


	13. Chapter 13 - Conversing with the Devil

_AN: Shout out to lilyflower101for the suggestion of a public apology, which I decided to change to a public "gesture." And for those asking about Draco, here you go._

* * *

Draco lay in the infirmary, watching the early morning sun filter in through the window. When he lay in here he somehow could feel as if the world might be normal, that he might have nothing more to worry about than his Potions exam and beating that prat Potter on the Quidditch field. He wondered what would become of him when that particular prat told the authorities that he attempted to use an unforgivable on him. Draco sighed. In some ways it was a relief. Maybe him getting expelled would actually make it all go away.

"You have a visitor," the very officious Madame Pomfrey announced.

"Crabb?" Draco guessed listlessly.

"Harry Potter," she replied crisply, gesturing to the other boy in the room. "And I expect things to remain civil."

"They will, Madame," Harry told her assuredly. "I'm actually here to apologize."

"Hmph," the officious woman replied, clearly not impressed. "Well, do it quickly then. Draco needs to eat his breakfast and I need to meet with his head of house to give him an update on his condition."

"Yes, ma'am," Harry replied, and then turned towards Draco.

"Why are you apologizing you prat?" Draco hissed as soon as Madame Pomfrey seemed out of range.

"Part of my punishment," Harry replied, determined to remain civil.

"Part?" Draco asked suspiciously. His sharp eyes caught that the prat seemed to be holding himself differently, but even Draco couldn't believe it of Snape. Wasn't Harry a blasted Gryffindor? Even despite the rumors of him becoming the prat's guardian? His eyes narrowed. "Have a seat, Potter."

Glancing at the chair beside the bed, Harry admitted, "I'd rather stand, thank you." He could sit, he knew, and it really only ached a little. But he wasn't sure he could do so without flinching, and that he really didn't want to do in front of Malfoy.

Draco groaned and sank back into the pillow, groaning. "Well, at least I'm not getting expelled. How many did you get?"

"How do you know that?" Potter demanded, his eyes blazing.

"Only Snape would be evil enough to make you apologize to me," Draco replied. "Which means he handled your punishment. You weren't expelled, which means that he used either a paddle or a cane on you. I'm guessing a paddle?"

"Yes," Harry admitted.

"Then how many?"

"Fifteen," Harry replied. "But three of them were my choice in order not to miss the next gazillion Quidditch games."

Draco whistled lowly. "RIP my bum when I get discharged, then."

"Do you really think he'll paddle you too?" Harry asked.

"Of course," Draco answered disdainfully. "I've never had fifteen before. Merlin's balls that man has an arm on him."

"He does," Harry agreed. "But won't it be forgiven with your, you know, injuries? I mean, you were pretty badly hurt . . ."

"Do you really think, Potter, that your out-dueling me in any way mitigates the punishment I have coming for attempting an unforgivable on another student?" Draco asked incredulously. "I'm a Slytherin for Merlin's sake, the fact that you beat me makes it worse."

"I did want to say that I'm sorry," Harry decided to just get that part over with. "Even though you cast first, I should not have used an unknown spell on you. If I had known what it did, I wouldn't have used it."

"Even with me casting the Cruciatus?" Draco asked, not believing. "Pull my other one, you wanker. You're just grateful it actually stopped me."

"Could you imagine what would have happened if you had died?" Harry asked his classmate, incredulous. "You can't believe I wanted that."

"Maybe not death," Malfoy conceded. "You are a heroic bloody Gryffindor after all. But don't expect me to believe that you wouldn't enjoy some maiming or serious pain."

" _You're_ the one that tried to crucio _me_ ," Harry replied, emphasizing his words.

"Don't play all righteous with me," Malfoy sneered. "You may have apologized, but I'm not so forgiving."

"Whether or not you forgive me is really not my concern," Harry replied, his eyes narrowing. "I'm not exactly hanging on you forgiving me."

"That greasy git is going to make me make a gesture," Draco sighed, looking at the ceiling and sighing heavily, Harry apparently forgotten.

"What's a gesture?"

"It's what Slytherins have to do if we've been fighting," Draco explained with a note of disdain in his voice. "It means I make a public gesture of us being at peace. Merlin's bloody balls that man's going to torture me. The paddle will be the least of it."

"Sounds like you're scared of him," Harry smirked. Harry may respect him and get pretty antsy when he suspected there was going to be a paddle involved, but he realized that he was no longer scared of the grouchy Potions master.

"That man knows how to torture," Draco admitted. "Even without the death eater party tricks."

. . .

"Severus my boy! Come on in!" Dumbledore greeted the Potions Master. His sharp eyes caught the look of guilt and reluctance on the man's face, and so he tried to make it easier on him. "Please, Severus, I am so glad that you came for a talk."

"I'm afraid it's not a social call," Snape replied, taking the offered seat.

"Indeed?" Dumbledore asked. "Then what brings you to my office?"

"I need to, well, confess in a way," Snape admitted. "The spell that Potter cast was mine."

"I realized it was," Dumbledore nodded. "I'm surprised that Harry learned it, I assume it wasn't on purpose."

"If it had been on purpose then I would have felt better," Snape confessed. "If I had talked to him about it, warned of its harms, and taught him how to use it defensively as well as with the cure, then that would have been fine. I was his age when I invented that spell, after all."

"But it was accidental."

Snape nodded. "He found my potions old potions book and has been using it for potions this year," he explained. "That's the reason he has excelled so much under Slughorn's tutelage."

"That makes sense," Dumbledore nodded. "How our old sins come back to haunt us, eh my boy?"

"I was negligent in leaving my book around to be found," Snape nodded at Dumbledore. "But Potter's reaction to it was . . . strange. He said that the person who wrote in the book began to feel like a . . . friend. And he wasn't unhappy at all that I was that person. I don't know what to make of it."

"I wonder if your feelings have changed about the boy," Dumbledore cautiously observed.

"The cane," Snape replied, his eyes narrowing. "I choose the cane."

"You are much to old for the cane," Dumbledore chuckled. "No, my boy, I'm afraid your penance is talking about your feelings."

"I'd rather have the cane," Snape grumbled, his eyes flashing.

"Of course you would," Dumbledore answered. "But it would do you no good."

"I spanked him good and hard," Snape said, looking at his hands and feeling unsure. "Fifteen with a paddle."

Dumbledore whistled lowly. "Ouch. He did deserve it, however."

"He did," Snape nodded. "And so does Malfoy when I get my hands on the wretch."

"But there's something else bothering you," Dumbledore observed.

"I spanked him over my lap," Snape explained. "I gave him the choice, and he chose my lap. And I felt relieved."

"Relieved?"

Snape nodded. "I realized that I really didn't want to punish the boy, but I knew that I had to. And I was relieved that I could touch him while I punished him, and the boy apparently felt the same way."

"Unusual for a boy his age," Dumbledore nodded.

"And then I thought to spare him the final three strokes and offered to administer them during his detention."

"Fifteen is a lot to have at once," Dumbledore agreed. "That was kind of you."

"He said to continue," Snape admitted. "He said he didn't want to fear it, it was better for it to be over. He's a brave lad."

"He is," Dumbledore agreed. "One of his defining characteristics."

"And so I did," Snape said. "And then after, well, he lay on my lap. I did not move him, and he didn't move. And I found us talking, laying on the couch like that, with Potter curled up beside me and his head on my lap."

"Sounds cozy," Dumbledore smiled kindly. "I am most gratified to see you getting along so well."

"But the worst of it was," Snape blushed furiously. "I found myself telling him things about myself! He asked me why I hadn't used the cane and I actually told him."

"You told him about the muggle school headmaster?"

"I never told you that," Snape's eyes flashed defensively.

"I knew you had been abused," Dumbledore placated the irate potions master. "I would have been remiss in my duties as a headmaster if I hadn't investigated at least a little."

"What did you do to him?" Snape asked with a bitter smirk.

"Let's just say he will never raise a cane again," Dumbledore answered levelly. "Even if it were still permitted in schools. His arm became quite disabled and doctors were unable to unfreeze the shoulder and elbow joints."

"Thank you," Snape answered, looking down. It touched him that Dumbledore had exacted revenge on his behalf, even if it had been a very gentle Dumbledore-style revenge.

"Had you told anyone about him before?" Dumbledore pressed.

"No," Snape answered quietly. "And that wasn't even the worst of it. I admitted to being the person who wrote in the book, to you forcing me to talk about my feelings, and by the end you couldn't have told the difference between me and Pomona Sprout!"

"Really, Severus, you are quite a bit taller than dear Pomona . . ." Dumbledore twinkled.

"Headmaster!" Snape roared in frustration, but let the man's lightness make his lip twitch a bit. "This is quite serious!"

"Of course it is," Dumbledore answered, his eyes merry but firm. "You have actually realized how much you care for the boy. Not as Lily's son but as Harry himself."

"I am not the kind of person who cares for people, let alone a cheeky brat like Potter!"

"You can spout lies all day long," Dumbledore smirked. "But do not expect me to believe them. You love that boy as a father. Who would have thought James' son would be the one to melt that injured heart of yours?"

"Lily's son," Snape corrected grumpily.

"I have often wondered what would happen if you allowed yourself to love again," Dumbledore smiled. "And for Harry to be able to love someone as a father."

"He has those damnable Marauders," Snape grimaced. "Surely they would be better fathers than me."

"I would not speculate one way or the other," Dumbledore told him softly. "But I do know what happened when a conflict arose between you and Sirius which side he took. You had to insist that Harry allow the relationship to mend. If you hadn't given your blessing, I doubt Harry would have ever let him apologize."

"Why does he care for me?" Snape asked, his voice young and incredulous. "I am not a nice man."

"No, but you are dependable," Dumbledore answered. "You are honest with him, you provide boundaries, you stepped up to offer to become his guardian. You have loved few people in your life, Severus, but those you have loved you have loved fiercely. And I'm afraid Harry's going to need every ounce of that fierceness before this is over. I had intended to tell you at breakfast that I just received an owl saying that your application for guardianship has officially been granted."


	14. Chapter 14 - Planning with Draco

"I'm sure you know why you are here," Snape told Draco as he ushered the boy into his office. "Are you well enough to accept your punishment?"

"It was a harrowing ordeal," Draco told him, making his voice sound somewhat vulnerable. "I would think with my injuries I would have had punishment enough."

"You cast a Cruciatus at the boy who lived," Snape answered, arching his eyebrow sardonically. "If you think the fact that my ward outdueled you elicits sympathy for you about this matter, you are sorely mistaken."

"Your ward?" Draco choked. "It's true."

"It's true," Snape confirmed, pushing down the objection in his mind to telling Draco before Harry. There was a purpose to telling Draco, and it protected Harry. "Harry Potter is now under my official protection and legally has all the rights of a natural born son to me."

"How could you do that?" Draco asked, astonished.

"I do not need to be questioned by an underage wizard on the life choices I make," Snape replied with acid in his tone. "Who are you to understand the machinations at work? All you need to know is that he's under my protection and any that threaten him will answer to me. Which brings me again to the subject of your punishment."

"Did you see me make the gesture at dinner?" Draco asked desperately. "I shook hands with the prat in front of everyone and invited him to practice Quidditch with me during our free time tomorrow."

"It was good of you to anticipate that part of your punishment," Snape nodded. "That shows true Slytherin cunning. I was glad to see it. However, it is not going to be the totality of your punishment."

"I suppose some detentions will teach me to watch my spells," Draco admitted, hanging his head. "You're right, I really shouldn't have used that spell. He just came in to the bathroom and I was startled . . ."

"What were you doing in the bathroom?"

"I was talking to Moaning Myrtle," Draco admitted. "There have been some . . . developments lately. I was feeling . . . like I wanted to talk."

"And why were the contents of that conversation enough to incite you to use the Cruciatus on someone who happened upon you?"

Draco blushed. "It wasn't that . . ." he admitted.

"Then why use an unforgivable?" Snape asked.

"He's such a prat!" Malfoy burst. "Always following me around and trying to catch me getting in trouble. I guess I just lost it."

"Lost it?" Snape asked succinctly. "Do you realize that by rights you should be facing Azkaban rather than a little justice meted out by your head of house? What would your father say then?"

"I would have failed," Draco admitted, paling at the thought. "My father . . . I don't know what my father would do. And _He_ would be most . . . displeased."

Neither had to acknowledge who the _He_ that Draco was speaking about.

Snape hedged a minute, and then asked, "Has Bella still been working on you in Occlumency?"

"Of course," he answered, a little prideful. "She says I'm one of the best students she's seen."

"You are not allowed to employ it during your punishment," Snape told him. "I will know if you do."

"Yes, sir," Draco agreed.

Snape, calculating how best to ensure Draco's cooperation in what he needed. It was good the boy knew some occlumency if he was going to entrust him with anything, and maybe they could conspire together. But now was the time for intimidation, so he swept over to the cupboard behind his desk. Slowly and with some degree of ceremony, he removed the dreaded paddle and also a school disciplinary cane. Silently, he walked over to his desk which had already been cleared, and he placed both items in front of Draco. Draco visibly paled as he stared at the two implements.

"But you're my Godfather!" he protested weakly, his voice breaking.

"Which is why I worked so hard against your expulsion," Snape nodded, his face grave.

Draco let a few seconds go by, waiting for Snape to speak, and then asked in a small voice, "Am I supposed to choose, sir?"

"Your choice will be made by how cooperative you are," Snape told him, seating himself and looking at the young man intently.

"Being threatened with the cane is nothing when you've been threatened with the Cruciatus," Draco replied, half bluff and half pained.

"Have you ever had either?" Snape asked, lifting an eyebrow.

Draco shook his head and looked down. "No sir. But I've been . . . I've seen the Cruciatus."

"On your father, I assume?"

The boy nodded, not making eye contact.

"I've had both, and let me tell you that while the Cruciatus is definitely far worse, the cane is still something to be feared." Snape looked carefully at the boy, gauging how much he needed to be scared. "The cane may look and sound as if it is not fearsome, but let me assure you that the opposite is true. Each stroke of the cane, even when administered through trousers, focuses an enormous amount of pain on one small area. The cane leaves a tramline weal, which means that the flesh swells and raises in that one stripe. If the administer is just a little off in the strength used, the cane can easily result in breaking the skin and blood then dripping down your legs. The stripes last for several days, even sometimes past a week. Every time you sit down it is, well, let's say you curse the wielder of that cane. One of my professors in primary school always caned children left-handed because he had been a weightlifter in University and was worried that he might injure a child. Some professors would also put a book under their arm so that the stroke was entirely from the wrist and not too harsh."

Draco gulped, staring at the innocuous looking instrument. "That sounds much worse than the paddle."

"Let me assure you that it is," Snape agreed. "Which is why I normally don't employ it except under . . . what you might call _exceptional_ circumstances."

"Like using an unforgivable?" Draco gulped.

Snape nodded gravely. "You have not had the Cruciatus, Mr. Malfoy, so let me describe it for you. Every nerve in your body, even several that you are unaware of existing, burns in exquisite pain. You are unable to think and do anything except cry out and writhe in pain. Only the most serious of Occlumens can withstand the pain and retain their sanity. Extended use of this curse actually overstimulates the nerves and can produce insanity, loss of magical power, and even death."

Draco paled even further. "It looked pretty bad when I saw it."

"And that is what you were attempting to do to a classmate."

Draco hung his head and for the first time looked shamed. He had just been angry at the prat, he hadn't really meant to do it to him. He had just been thinking about his dad undergoing the Crucio in front of him, and he wanted to make somebody pay. He had done it mainly without thinking.

"You deserve an extremely harsh punishment for what you have done," Snape told him. "The headmaster would have been within his rights to call the aurors and have you sent to Azkaban. The penalty for using the Cruciatus in these circumstances would probably have been two to three years."

Draco gasped, not realizing how criminal his actions had been, looked to the Potion Master's face for some sign of insincerity. He saw none.

"Two to three years?"

"Yes," Snape told him. "Undoubtedly you are aware of how difficult it is to be ensconced there. Use of that spell is criminal, Mr. Malfoy."

"But Potter cut me up!" Draco protested. "I nearly died!"

"It could be argued that it was self-defense," Snape addressed him evenly. "You cast first. And while the idiot didn't know how harmful the spell he cast was, you did. Also, the spell he cast wasn't illegal in and of itself, while the one you cast was."

"So Dumbledore sanctioned a beating instead?"

"Indeed," Snape replied. "It is to be a serious punishment, but I have some latitude."

"How many?" he asked bravely.

"That depends entirely upon your cooperation, Mr. Malfoy."

"What do you want?" he asked with chagrin, knowing what the man wanted.

"You know what I want," Snape answered calmly. "I want you to tell me your plans to fulfill the Dark Lord's command and I want to collaborate with you on them."

"I said I could do this myself!" Draco flushed with anger and with another, more difficult to name emotion.

"Your mother bade me form an unbreakable vow to assist you," Snape told him smoothly. "I am honor-bound to do so. Now allow me to help you or ready yourself for the cane."

"The vanishing cupboards," Draco told him, sighing. "There's one in the room of requirement and another in that shop in Knockturn Alley. I'm trying to get the one here to work. That could let in the death eaters."

"What else?"

"Mother has a cursed necklace to use and I've thought about poison. He's a difficult man to take on directly."

"I will think on it and we will plan together," Snape told him firmly. "Make no further attempts without my collaboration."

"Yes, sir," Draco agreed glumly.

"Ready yourself for your punishment," Snape told him firmly, vanishing the cane back to the cupboard.

Draco, sighing, removed his robe and bent over the desk. He'd been through this before, though he knew this would be worse than what he'd received previously.

"Fifteen, Mr. Malfoy," Snape intoned. "I decided that due to your honor in making a gesture already and the cooperation you've shown, I will make your punishment equal to that of Mr. Potter's. You are honor-bound to the commitments you've made today, however."

"I understand," Draco answered. "Thank you, sir."

Snape looked at the boy readying himself for punishment and sighed. He didn't like doing this any more than he had to Harry, but he knew he had no choice. His hand began to fall sharply on the young man's backside, focusing on the seat of his pants.

Draco hissed in response to a particular harsh smack, but for the most part endured stoically. He knew that he would only be able to endure so far, and he was trying to make it to at least halfway through the paddle.

"And now fifteen with the paddle," Snape intoned. "Count out loud."

Draco braced himself, closing his eyes. The paddle began to fall, hard and swift. He grunted out number five, and tears began to fall at stroke six. Despite the tears and the yelps, he continued to count out loud, the numbers getting more and more desperate.

Snape knew that Draco was doing his best to count and to hold still, and he had some admiration for the stoicism the young man was growing. This was a far cry from the first spanking he had given the boy where he had practically had to sit on the lad to get him to hold still. And he had protested wildly that it was all Harry's fault anyway for nearly killing himself over a stupid rememberall.

"Fifteen," Draco grunted in relief. He had survived. Though his backside surely knew that fact, anything dead would surely not feel so much pain.

"And now we plan," Snape told him, banishing the paddle to the cupboard. He reflected that it might be kinder to allow the boy time to pull himself together, but with Draco he knew that physical pain made him feel more vulnerable, and this was the time to talk to him. He needed Draco vulnerable, not arrogant and scared.


	15. Chapter 15 - Scrubbing Cauldrons

_AN: I would like to give a shoutout to reviewer Margot11 who encouraged me to explore some of the dynamics of Snape running Slytherin house. It was fun to think about what that would look like, and it's explored a little in this chapter._

* * *

After punishing Draco, somewhat satisfied with the outcome. Draco had cooperated, which was helpful, and he was beginning to form the basics of the plan to kill Dumbledore. Stupid brave Gryffindor with no thought to how murdering him would affect the man he'd asked to do it. That man would never know how lucky he was to have secured the loyalty of a former death-eater and current Potions Master. Somebody had to think like a Slytherin.

"You wanted me, Professor?" he heard a familiar voice ask.

"Yes, Mr. Potter," he nodded. "Please come in. Are you well?"

"Yes, I'm well," Harry replied with a smirk. "And I'm happy to report that my backside is completely back to normal."

Snape smirked. "It's been two days, I would assume the next day you were mostly fine."

"You vastly underestimate the strength of your arm," Harry grinned. "Fifteen was a harsh penalty."

"You could have had three of them tomorrow at detention," Snape reminded him. "You're the one that wanted them all at once."

"But now it's over!" Harry insisted. "All I have left is detentions."

"Detentions with me are a thing to be feared," Snape intoned. "And you will serving them with Draco."

"With Draco?" Harry asked, incredulous. "Aren't I in the detentions for nearly killing him?"

"And he is in them for attempting to crucio you," Snape replied evenly. "I discussed his punishment with him earlier today."

"Did he get the paddle?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow.

"You know I would not discuss your punishment with him."

"He already seemed to know it," Harry answered with a smirk. "And he seemed to think that he would get similar treatment."

"Draco knows the reality of having me as his head of house," Snape intoned. "I don't take the use of an unforgivable lightly."

"Which of us got more?"

"You will have to ask him."

"So it was me," Harry nodded. "I am the one that caused the most damage. Draco attempted, but I was successful . . ."

"He deserved more," Snape snapped at him. "However, due to certain . . . extenuating circumstances I decided to be merciful and I decided to make your punishments equitable."

Harry nodded, saying, "That's fair. So is that what you wanted to talk to me about, sir?"

"No, there's another matter," Snape told him, suddenly feeling nervous. He looked away, tapping his fingers on his desk, and wondered at why he was so nervous. The boy had expressed that he wanted this, why was it so hard to simply say it?

"I talked with Dumbledore, and there's been some news on the guardianship front."

Harry's face looked stricken, seeing Snape trying to soften the blow. "I know you tried," he said, looking down. "It does mean a lot to me that you tried."

"I think you misunderstand . . ."

"I didn't really expect it to work out," he admitted. "It doesn't usually for me, you know. Nothing good, anyway."

"That is enough of this self-pity, Potter," Snape barked it him. "Close your mouth and listen to me, foolish child. The guardianship was granted."

"It was granted?" he echoed, shocked.

"Yes, it was," Snape firmly replied. "In fact, it is rather too late to regret me having that sort of power over you."

"Yeah!" Harry cheered, thrusting his arm in the air. "That's amazing! Why didn't you tell me first thing?"

"A piece of paper doesn't really change anything," Snape told him, trying to calm down his heart from the explosion of joy Harry was showing. "We both have been living as if I was your guardian for months."

"But it means that I can't be taken away," Harry smiled at him. "You don't know how many times I've been afraid of someone just saying, 'Sorry, I know you like Snape and all, but it's back to the Dursley's for you!'"

"I would not have permitted that."

"You don't always have a choice, Severus Snape," Harry told him, smirking.

"If that piece of paper makes you feel more secure, Harry, then I'm glad you have it."

"You are too," Harry smirked. "Don't try and tell me different."

"Perhaps," Snape managed an almost half-smile. "It also allows me to treat you as if you were my son. Should something happen to me, you will be able to inherit."

"I just got you and you're now determined to talk about your death," Harry shook his head. "Seriously? Shouldn't we have a cake or something? Or should we celebrate with you signing your will?"

"A will would be infinitely more practical," Snape smirked. "However, I thought that ice cream might be in order. Would you like to go into Diagon Alley with me this evening for a bit of a celebration?"

"Can I have the biggest sundae they have?" Harry asked, just like a child.

"Within reason," Snape replied, mock-stern. "This is no excuse to eat so many sweets that you get sick."

. . .

The next day in detention Harry found himself scrubbing elbow-to-elbow with Draco Malfoy. Neither said very much, they had both survived enough detentions to know the best way to survive was to keep your mouth shut, your head down, and not complain about whatever task Snape saw fit to give them.

"I'm surprised that you would give your ward the same detentions as your Godson now that he is officially your ward," Draco sneered, grimacing at the cauldron with distaste.

"How did you know about that?" Harry asked, incredulous. "Was there an announcement put up in the Slytherin common room?"

"He told me when he whacked me yesterday," Draco told him. "To say that you were under his protection."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "That was before he met with me," he realized, and then turned to look at Snape. "Did you honestly tell him before you told me?"

Snape instantly weighed his options. It would have been better to tell Harry first, and he knew that. But he also knew that this was one of those minor things that could become much larger if it wasn't addressed well.

"I felt your protection was more important than timing," Snape told him.

"Couldn't you have given me a heads up first?" Harry asked, crossing his arms in exasperation.

"Perhaps I should have," Snape acknowledged. He wished he could just tell the boy to drop it and he would, but he knew that it was going to take an admission he didn't want to make.

"Is that all you have for me?" Harry asked. "Perhaps?"

"I should just order you back to your detentions and tell you to stop this foolishness," Snape told him.

"Maybe he just likes me better," Draco quipped. "If he decides to bend you over the desk and wallop your arse for disrespect, do I get out of scrubbing?"

"Shut it, Malfoy," Harry snapped.

"My money's on the bat," Draco grinned.

Snape sighed. This was not going at all like he had planned. He was going to have to be honest and use some of those emotions that Dumbledore was always going on about.

"Draco, scrub," he ordered. "Harry, come here please."

Harry walked over to the desk, feeling a bit of uncertainty but fairly sure that he wasn't going to be punished further.

Snape sighed. "I apologize for not telling you first," Snape told him, trying to keep his voice even and sincere. "I should have. I just wanted to have a private moment with you to tell you, and I wanted to take you to ice cream after. In order to do that I had to get the . . . unpleasant business of punishing Draco done first. I hadn't meant to tell him then, but yes I wanted him to understand that you were now legally under my protection."

"He doesn't even know what that means, Professor," Draco rolled his eyes at them. "You're telling him these things that he doesn't get because he's a stupid Gryffindor. I hear they don't even have a set of codes like we do."

Snape felt chagrined at what Draco was telling him, knowing it to be true. The boy didn't understand Slytherin culture, so he didn't understand what Snape had been trying to do.

"Let me try to explain, Harry," Snape sighed. "Though I hate to admit it, I have to say that Draco is right. You don't understand Slytherin culture and tradition, so you don't understand what I was trying to do. You see, being under my protection means that you are to be treated as a Slytherin by others. That means that any attack on you by another Slytherin would be treated as an inner-house issue and handled differently."

"Is Slytherin that different than the rest of the houses?" Harry asked, confused.

"Of course it is," Draco answered. "All the other houses hate us, we have to take care of ourselves."

"Mr. Malfoy is right, even though if he was intelligent he would be scrubbing," Snape shot him a look.

"How is Slytherin different?" Harry asked.

"You have to realize that for centuries Slytherin has been misunderstood," Snape told him. "It is true that Slytherin tends to produce more dark wizards than any other house, but it is also true that it produces some of the best leaders. Almost half of the Ministers of Magic have been Slytherin, as well as many powerful aurors, professors and even headmasters. It is said that Merlin himself was a Slytherin. It is true that Slytherin are cunning and ambitious and are therefore easier to seduce with delusions of power, but that doesn't make them inherently evil."

"But everyone thinks we are," Draco nodded, the cauldron scrubbing conveniently forgotten. "And part of that works for us, too."

"Indeed, it does," Snape nodded. "And so Slytherins have not been able to associate as much with those in other houses, it strengthens the inner-house bonds. So, over the centuries of enduring a form of classism against our house, we have developed codes. No non-Slytherin could ever hope to be our head of house, it wouldn't be tolerated."

"And the professor put you under that code when he said you were under his protection," Draco explained. "He told me and the rest of Slytherin knew within the hour."

"Which was my purpose," Snape nodded.

"So what is this code?" Harry asked, looking between the two Slytherins. He felt a twinge of jealousy that Draco would have this sort of knowledge and intimacy with his guardian that he didn't understand.

"Why don't you do the honors, Mr. Malfoy," Snape nodded to the boy. "Since you have gotten yourself out of cauldron washing temporarily."

Flashing his head of house a cheeky grin, he straightened up and thought for a moment. "Slytherin House stands as one, Slytherins cannot be divided, together Slytherins become great. A Slytherin will never raise wand nor voice to hinder or harm a housemate, and must be cunning and ambitious above all."

"It's a simple code," Snape explained. "But it's in the traditional interpretation that it really works. For instance the gesture that Draco made in front of others to show you that he bears you no ill-will comes from how the code is interpreted."

"So no Slytherin can be mean to me again?" Harry asked, incredulous.

"Of course not," Draco rolled his eyes. "We are ambitions and cunning, remember? But if someone actually hinders or harms you, then he will deal with the Head of House."

"It would be nice if this applied to all other students," Harry remarked darkly.

"Perhaps it will when we are no longer the targets as well," Snape explained blandly.

"Is this protection automatic when I became your ward?" Harry asked with trepidation.

"Of course not," Draco explained, trying to be patient. "You don't get anything, do you? Professor Snape wasn't allowed to do it before then, of course. But not every ward becomes like a Slytherin."

"Then why am I?" Harry asked.

"Probably because I think you will need all the help you can get," Snape smirked.

"You idiot," Draco said without venom. "You really don't get this do you? The only people that Snape could extend this kind of protection with is his son or daughter. So for all practical purposes, in the eyes of Slytherin, Snape is claiming you are his son."

Harry blinked in surprise. Whatever he had been expecting from the blond Slytherin that wasn't it. Harry looked at Snape, who seemed a bit flustered himself. Had he regretted making such a claim to his house?

"Does everyone understand that's what it means?" Harry asked, dumbfounded.

"Every Slytherin," Draco nodded gravely, though his lips turned up into a smirk. "So like it or not, Potter, you're one of us now."

"I'm not sure I want to be a Slytherin," Harry hesitated, not wanting to disrupt the comradery he seemed to be being offered. Even though he was annoyed at Snape for telling Draco first, he was also deeply touched that he told Slytherin that he was his son.

Draco snorted. "Of course not, you prat. It's not like we're super excited either."

"But it could prove useful," Snape told him. "Now then, do I need to tell you about the traditional methods for ending long-standing vendettas?"

"We're fine, we're fine," Draco assured him. "We don't need to go there. Our vendetta is over, right, Potter?"

"I guess," Harry answered, finding himself confused by the blond he had considered his enemy for so long. "What's the traditional method?"

"It's too horrible to contemplate," Malfoy admitted. "It's truly awful. I would prefer the cane."

"That could be arranged as well," Snape nodded. "So I expect you two to end it."

"Yes, sir," Malfoy agreed.

"And back to your scrubbing," Snape told them.

As the boys scrubbed side by side, Harry couldn't help but whisper, "So what is the tradition method for ending vendettas?"

"Too horrible to contemplate," Malfoy shuddered. "Snape performs a sticking spell, sticking the two of you together until you crack."

"That doesn't sound as bad as the cane," Harry whispered back.

"Really?" Draco asked. "Would you like to be stuck to me all day every day? We'd have to share a bed and cooperate for meals and using the bathroom. Rumor has it that the longest anybody has done it before cracking and crying like a baby was three days. It's one of the worst tortures he performs."

"How much of these traditions are Snape and how much are Slytherin?" Harry asked.

"To us, there's no difference," Draco whispered. "But I will tell you this, Slytherin was a much more violent place before Snape. He's replaced the cane with the paddle, and even that is used rarely. He prefers psychological torture."

"I'm not sure that's better."

"In my father's time the unity part of the pledge was interpreted to mean the elimination of those that didn't conform," Draco acknowledged. "Snape changed it to be more protective of ourselves against the world, you know?"

"Silence," Snape growled. "Enough chatter. When you two finish perhaps we can work on some dueling."


	16. Chapter 16 - Promising Murder

Snape sat back, watching Harry and Draco practice deflecting stinging charms, and tried to make sense of the direction his life was taking. He now had a son, for all intents and purposes, and he was trying to juggle that with pleasing the Dark Lord, helping Draco with his asinine task of killing Dumbledore, promising to kill Dumbledore himself if Draco proved unable to do it, and of course bringing about the ultimate defeat of Voldemort. How did an unknown half-blood like himself find himself in such a pivotal role in this war? He eyed the two young men and wondered too about his handling of them. He would like nothing better than to send them to Durmstrang or some other wizarding school, far away from this madness. But he knew that he couldn't, and so the best he could do was to try and keep them safe within the structure he had.

It had made him smirk a little when Draco explained the code and the interpretations as if things were set in stone. The boy had some idea that he had ended using the cane, but he had no idea how much abuse of power used to happen within Slytherin. When he had been a student any non-conforming Slytherin, such as a half-blood like himself, was subject to alienation and abuse. It had only been his brilliancy at Potions and then eventually his alliance with the Dark Lord that had earned him any respect. The current Slytherins knew that they must always protect all housemates, he hadn't told them that when he was a boy he had needed protection not only from the Marauders but also from the purebloods in his own house. His head of house, Professor Slughorn, had not cared about the fate of an ugly and poor student of ill birth like himself.

"That is enough," he had told the two boys. Harry had a swollen leg that had gotten hit by Draco, and Draco had one eye swollen shut.

"Are you going to have us dueling often?" Harry asked, panting. He had missed working with Dumbledore's Army, but it had been less necessary now that Snape was teaching defense. He not only taught theory but had dueling practice at least one class a week.

"Perhaps I'm trying to encourage you two to do better in my class," Snape smirked. "Do you need a potion for your injuries?"

"I'm fine," Harry scoffed. "Potions don't help as much with stinging hexes anyways."

"They can help a bit, it just takes a few hours," Snape explained. "This one doesn't even taste that bad."

"I'll take it," Draco agreed. "Otherwise people are going to think this prat can best me."

"I'd call it a draw," Snape nodded and handed Draco the potion.

"I'll take it too then," Harry agreed, accepting the vial.

"That's terrible!" Draco winced, swallowing the potion. "What do you mean it's not bad?"

"I guess it's a matter of perception," Snape smirked.

"Bleh," Harry protested after drinking the potion. "I agree with Draco."

"Don't agree to closely," Draco flashed him a look. "It's not like we're going to be friends now you prat."

Snape watched them leave his classroom with an odd feeling. He had wanted them to get along and maybe even become friends, but seeing his plans actually work was surreal. He also knew that Draco and he needed help in their task if it was going to go as he wished it to go, and Harry was going to be a large part of that help.

Sighing, Snape looked down at the hand he'd use to make the unbreakable vow with Narcissa Malfoy. That encounter had taken such bald turn of phrase that he still couldn't believe that they didn't notice what he'd actually promised. Even with the paranoid Bella in the room he'd been able to do it.

"You know what the Dark Lord has ordered Draco to do," Narcissa had told Snape. "You know why."

"Indeed I do," Snape answered. "But that still doesn't tell me why you are talking to me about it. Surely you should be planning to help your son."

"You must help him, of course," Narcissa told Snape, panicked. "He's a young, inexperienced wizard ordered to . . . well, you know. I can help him as much as I can, but I can only go so far."

"You will make an unbreakable vow," Bella ordered, her eyes dark. "You will help the boy."

"Isn't that a little . . . dramatic, Bellatrix?" he drawled, uninterested. The last thing he needed was crazy Bella dictating what he did and didn't do. "What concern is it of mine how the Dark Lord punishes his followers?"

"I'm begging you," Narcissa turned to Snape. "Please."

Snape knew he would have to say yes. Saying anything else made him look as if he weren't a loyal follower, and the Malfoys had been a rich source of information and power over the last decade. And, if he were to be honest, he was the best person to help Draco with this task. Especially given the fact that these two pure-blooded women were begging him, it would be suspicious not to acquiesce. Damn the Dark Lord for setting him up like this. He wouldn't put it past the Dark Lord to view this as a loyalty test for him.

"I will consider it," Snape told them. "But you must not interfere with the plans I will make with the boy."

"Agreed," Narcissa nodded. "I won't interfere, but will help if necessary."

"The brat will need more than a cursed necklace," Bella snapped at her sister. "This is Dumbledore we're talking about."

"Don't say names that could have power," Snape told her coldly. "Do not underestimate the aged Headmaster, he is more formidable than you realize."

"He's an elderly, senile old bag," Bella laughed back, but Snape noticed she didn't use his name again. "Easy enough for one of your . . . talents."

"Talents I have many," Snape agreed without arrogance. "But if I do this thing it is protection I will need. You realize that I will be a prime suspect, and I don't fancy taking on Minerva if she should find out about it, nor Flitwick either."

"The Dark Lord will protect you," Narcissa told him. "Think of how favored you will be! Even for someone with . . . mixed parentage as you have, surely you will be trusted."

"And there will be few at the Ministry to investigate fully," Bella sneered. "They are all properly cowed, or will be soon. This is a good offer for someone of your background."

"So this is a chance to rise above my birth?" Snape asked sardonically. Of all the things they could have appealed to him, and they went with his birth? Were they really so arrogant in their pureblood status?

"Of course," Narcissa told him. "There is not a good house you would not be welcomed into."

He sighed then, knowing it was time to give in but wishing he didn't have to do it. He also heard the threat implicit in what these two women threatened, if he did not agree then it would jeopardize his ability to spy. And really, if Malfoy were forced to do this horrendous thing, then it would be better for him to be controlling the particulars of how it occurred.

"I will do it," he agreed.

"Thank you, thank you," Narcissa told him with emotion, tears welling in her eyes. "I swear, Severus, you will look back and be glad at the decision you make today."

"I hope you are right," he answered succinctly, but knew there was no sense in delay. "I assume Bella is here to cast the spell?"

"Of course," Bella smiled easily. For a moment Snape could almost forget how cruel and evil she really was, she looked for all the world like a woman helping her sister out of a hard place.

Snape turned to Narcissa and nodding, Snape reached out and grasped Narcissa's arm. Bella cast the spell, the silvery ropes encircling their wrists together.

"Promise that you will assist Draco in the dark order that the Dark Lord has given him."

"I swear to help Draco fulfill my master's orders to the reasonable best of my ability," Snape nodded.

"And swear that if he should fail," Bella added, her voice sneering. "Swear that you will fulfill the Dark Lord's orders."

"I swear that if Draco fails then I will fulfill my master's orders to the reasonable best of my ability," Snape replied without surprise. He knew that Bella had thrown that in to startle him, but he expected it. Nobody expected Draco to be able to complete the task, at least on his own, so Bella had arranged a backup so the Dark Lord's will would be carried out.

"Adequate," Bella smiled as the bands disappeared. "I see you couch your terms carefully, but I cannot fault your words."

"Indeed," Snape agreed. "For what if I tried but you or another loyal follower were able to fulfill the task instead of me? I would be dead."

"Death is a small price to pay in service to our Lord," Bella told him severely.

"Of course," Severus told her. "But the more practical among us would like to live long enough to again serve another day. There are few enough of us as it is, I would hate to take away one of the Dark Lord's most loyal servants if unnecessary. But this task is important, so I pledge to help."

"Thank you, Severus," Narcissa nodded, wiping a tear from her eye. "I know you always did look out for my Draco, for which I am very grateful."

"You must be strong, Narcissa," Severus told her, appearing sympathetic. "It is hard now, but soon it will be over. We will look back at these times as trying, but that we survived."

"As long as Draco survives I will be happy," she told him, smiling at Snape.

Snape thought that the warmth of her smile almost touched her eyes, but he wasn't fooled. There was nobody more calculating than Narcissa Malfoy, the only thing that mattered to her was the survival of her son. She would sacrifice her husband, properties and even her very life to ensure that.

"Indeed," he nodded. "I will keep you informed of our progress."


	17. Chapter 17 - Fighting With Draco

_AN: Just a warning, but this is going to be where the timeline really does differ from canon. Major events mirror canon, but not in the original timeline. This is a major exercise in "what if?" thinking. Enjoy!_

* * *

Harry had never had a Christmas with a guardian before. Well, at least not one other than the Dursleys, and they didn't really count. What was he supposed to do? Would he and Snape go back to the house where they spent the summer? Christmas at Hogwarts like last year? Snape had almost given him a Christmas present last year, so should they exchange this year? Harry just wished he knew what the expectations were going to be.

Snape watched Harry eat his dinner with his classmates for the last time before Christmas break and found himself thinking about what Christmas was going to be like with the boy. Last year there had been sort of gifts between them, and some degree of trepidation and hope. But that was before Dumbledore acquired a cursed hand, before he made an unbreakable vow, and before he had placed himself in the position of being the boy's father. How much had changed in a year. And how was he going to tell the boy what had to happen? Would he understand or would he see Snape as the murderer of his beloved mentor? Snape found himself a bit frozen at the prospect of telling Harry the plan, but knew deeply that the cost of not telling him would be any respect and love he had begun to develop for Snape. How could he do what he needed to do?

"Christmas at Hogwarts this year?" McGonagall asked him as he sipped his tea.

"That's the plan," Snape told her. "Draco is here, of course, and I believe Harry may have convinced Ron Weasley to be here for at least part of it."

"It sounds like a regular party," she smiled at him. "Have you bought Harry his Christmas gift yet?"

"I have," Snape admitted. "But I'm still trying to decide whether or not it's what I want to give him."

"A broom?"

"Not all of us are obsessed with Quidditch," he replied with sarcasm.

"Then what?"

"I believe I'll tell you when I decide whether or not to give it to him," Snape told her. "Until then you will just have to try and stay your curiosity."

"Oh Snape, you know I don't do that well," she laughed. "I know that he's been working on a present for you, and I hoped to give him some ideas."

"Come up with something yourself, you sentimental biddy," he snapped at her, but they both knew that there was no venom in it.

"I believe I shall," she told him with a knowing look.

"Although we may perhaps visit my home for a few days," he told her. "Depending on how things go."

"A quiet Christmas with just the two of you could be nice for a bit," she nodded. "But it really is more festive here. And Harry could have that time with his friends as well."

"I'm not sure Draco is a friend."

"They seem to have made peace," she nodded towards towards a Potter actually engaged in conversation with the aforementioned Malfoy. "At least they aren't actively hexing each other."

"Malfoy is now forbidden from it," Snape told her. "I have acknowledged Potter as under my protection, and any attack on him will be an attack on a fellow Slytherin and shall be handled accordingly."

"That sticking spell is wickedly clever," McGonagall smirked. "But does that protection extend to Mr. Potter's compatriots? I smell trouble brewing."

"I'm sure that all involved will comport themselves with the utmost dignity," Snape asserted, though neither of them believed him.

"Well, enjoy this holiday with your ward," she told him. "We live in an uncertain world, and we never know where you will be next year at this time."

"That is sage advice," he nodded. "I will take it under advisement." In fact, the present he hoped to give Harry was exactly based on that principal.

"Are you prepared to be acting administrator this next week with both Dumbledore and I gone?" she asked solicitously.

"Of course!" he replied, offended. Then, relenting, he reminded her, "Flitwick is here too. We shall be fine while Mother and Father are gone."

Snape had sometimes wondered if Minerva had a bit of untapped prophecy gifting in her, though the stern Head of Gryffindor would surely scorn such frivolous pursuits. She was kind to Professor Trelawney in her fair and no-nonsense manner, but the eminently practical woman would not countenance the idea that she could tell the future. But as Snape looked at Harry, Ron Weasley and the Heir of Malfoy before him he thought of her breakfast comment with chagrin. Apparently, trouble had indeed been brewing.

"So, six of the best for each of you?" he asked the three miscreants.

Ron whimpered, Malfoy instantly protested and Harry blanched.

"But sir!" Malfoy protested. "There is no call for that!"

"It is really not necessary," Harry assured him. "I'm sure we can work this out in another way."

"Would he really do that?" Ron asked, flabbergasted.

Draco and Harry both shot them a look of resignation, making Ron's confusion progress rapidly to panic. The looks he received clearly communicated that they had no doubt that Snape, in fact, would.

"Who would like to bend over the desk first?" Snape asked crisply. "Normally this would not include Mr. Weasley, but as the fact that the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall are both gone, my jurisdiction extends to him."

"Don't you even want to know what happened first?" Harry asked incredulously. "How can you know how to punish us if you don't know what happened?"

"I can guess," Snape told him coldly. "Tell me if I'm correct. Malfoy said something to mortally offend the honor of the Weasley offspring, probably something about their financial situation or an insult like 'blood traitors.' Mr. Potter then challenged Mr. Malfoy's honor, saying something along the lines of 'Don't talk to my friend like that you snob!' and then Mr. Malfoy took a swing at Mr. Potter. No, scratch that; Mr. Potter took the first swing or he would have more righteous indignation about him. Mr. Weasley, not be outdone for long, joined the fray and began punching. The brawl was overseen by a Hufflepuff Prefect and it was determined that I would punish the miscreants instead of fellow acting co-headmaster Professor Flitwick because I have authority over two of the three miscreants. Did I miss anything?"

Harry, his mouth slightly agape, looked at Snape in surprise. How could he have known all of that? Even Malfoy forsook his usual aristocratic aplomb to gape at Snape's deduction.

"That's scary right," Ron nodded, a little frightened.

"So then I would be able to give you a long lecture on the rules against violence, on stoicism in the face of bad manners, and then bend you each over the desk and dole out a punishment that will make you each less likely to take justice into your own hands for at least the rest of the holiday. Any objections?"

All three boys began objecting at once, and Snape had to smile inwardly. It was so easy to get these young men exactly where he wanted them to go.

"Unless there is any substantial objection to the facts of the case . . . " Snape told them.

"We should air our grievances!" Malfoy told him. "Aren't we allowed to do that?"

"That only applies if everyone involved is a Slytherin," Snape told him.

"The bulk of the fight was between Potter and me," Malfoy objected. "I demand to air grievances."

"What's that?" Harry asked.

"You are both allowed to tell your side to me and allow me to render a judgment," Snape told him.

"I will be justified!" Malfoy asserted.

"I will allow it," Snape nodded. "But it is between you and Mr. Potter. Mr. Weasley will merely accept my judgment."

"That's fair," Harry agreed. "I did nothing but defend a friend."

"I trust Harry," Ron told him, still clearly panicking about Snape's threats.

"Malfoy first," Snape nodded towards the blond Slytherin. "State your case."

Malfoy went on to passionately explain that he had just made a comment, a comment that was actually true, and it had been radically blown out of proportion by hot-headed Gryffindors. Harry successfully argued that Malfoy knew what he was doing, and that he was constantly picking on Ron and his impoverished status. He argued that though he threw the first punch, Malfoy had instigated the altercation so he was more to blame. They argued back and forth, keeping a semi-formal feel to the altercation, until finally Snape raised his hand for silence.

"I have reached a decision," Snape told them. "I have decided that you are each at fault."

"But . . ." both Harry and Draco protested together.

"That is my judgment," Snape told them. "But I have also decided to give you an alternate option for your discipline in this matter."

"What is that, sir?" Harry asked grimly.

"I will have the three of you work on a special project for the next week," Snape told them carefully. "If you work hard enough, your rule-breaking will be forgiven. If you fail to work hard enough at the task I set for you, then we continue with my first pronouncement. This project will take a great deal of cooperation, so it will not be easy."

"What is the project about, sir?" Draco asked with resignation. He would rather do a project for a week than to be smacked in front of bloody Ron Weasley.

"It is research that I need for various other things," Snape told them. "I will assign you three topics, and I expect you to each collaborate about each one. One of you is to be in charge of each topic, but I expect each of you to be well-versed in each topic. I expect the results of your research presented in essay form, attributing sources and speculating on possible areas of research. You may employ the assistance of Miss Granger as well if you wish, but you will be quizzed on the information you present, so you had better know it."

The three nodded, waiting to hear the topics. Harry thought for sure it would be some strange and obscure potion ingredients or ancient wizard noted for defense.

"The first topic is how to destroy things that are technically alive yet difficult to destroy. I want five methods for destroying such objects, and the relative dangers and benefits of each method. Secondly, I would like as much information as you can assess on how to use magic to survive in the world. Methods of gaining food, fire, water, shelter, basic first aid and information should be the bulk of the essay. Thirdly, I would like effective methods of subterfuge. Please include potions and charms, with a heavy emphasis in avoiding detection. Questions?"

The three looked at each other, confused. Why these topics?

"These seem like unusual topics, sir," Malfoy told him diplomatically. "Usually we receive something about a rare potion ingredient or something."

"These are the topics that will be useful to me," Snape told him sharply. "Of course, if you would rather write out your research on the use of newt's tongues versus frog tongues in healing potions . . ."

"We're good," Harry assured him. "These topics sound interesting for us to do. We'll do it."

"Speak for yourself, Gryffindor," Malfoy snapped at him.

"Then I shall be expecting the tongue essay in addition to what I've assigned?" Snape asked, his voice drawling. "Malfoy seemed interested in more work."

"I'll take the original topics," Malfoy told him, scowling.

"Excellent, I expect outlines by tomorrow morning," he told them briskly. "You are dismissed and may visit the infirmary should your bruises prove bothersome."

They ducked their heads as they left, obviously realizing the work he had set before them.

"Will these essays at least help us in class for the next year?" Harry asked him.

"It will help you in this next year," Snape asked diplomatically. He didn't have the heart yet to tell the boy that if his machinations worked out how he had planned, Harry and Ron would not be returning to class after Christmas break. He watched them leave, surprised that Malfoy had taken that long to pick a fight with Harry. He had almost had to invent some imagined offense.


	18. Chapter 18 - Gifting Knives

_AN: I wanted to apologize for the delay in this chapter, updates should become more regular after this. I was ill this past week and it wasn't a sit on the couch and write fanfiction sort of sick but more of a barely having the brain power to watch stupid youtube videos sort of sick. I'm much better now, and excited with where this story is going. This chapter feels warm and cozy to me, but after this things are going to get a little crazy. I had one request of my British readers, does anybody have a good suggestion of a boring but big enough to not be too nosy suburban-ish place outside London?_

* * *

"Hermione says that an instrument imbued with basilisk venom would also destroy something nearly indestructible," Ron announced, reading the latest note delivered from Hedwig. "So now we're up to three."

"Do you think he gave us an impossible task so that we were sure to get whacked anyway?" Draco asked, feeling defeated. "We've gotten most of the other things he's asked for, but destroying that which is difficult to destroy has got to be the hardest."

"Hermione says to check out Forster's Compendium for more ideas," Ron told them. "And she said if that doesn't work to try something called the Troll's Hammer written by some bloke named Row . . . Ronaldo Beaversham."

"I already tried that Compendium," Draco moaned. "It's where we got the idea of basilisk venom. We need two more methods."

"What if we used a Basilisk fang?" Harry asked, wondering. "I mean, that basilisk we left down in chamber is probably a skeleton now. We could just get one of those."

"That might be considered the same method as basilisk venom," Malfoy argued.

"Well, let's put it down now and if we find a better way, then we could just use that," Ron said reasonably. "Then we would only need one more."

"Would banishing something destroy it?" Harry asked, wrinkling his forehead.

"Of course not," Draco snapped. "Did you not pay attention in class?"

"Bloody Hermione, this one," Ron grumbled with a playful jab at the Malfoy scion. "We've missed having her around. Usually she's the one that grumbles about us not paying attention in class."

"I'd hate to say I agree with Granger, but she has a point," Draco answered, returning the jab. "Without her, would either of you passed any classes?"

"Probably not," Ron admitted, good-naturedly.

"Would any muggle means work?" Harry asked, absently rubbing his scar. "Perhaps dissolving it in a vat of acid or something?"

"Too much television, mate," Ron answered him.

"Maybe a vat of venom?" Malfoy scoffed.

"Here's the hammer book," Harry offered. "Did Hermione say where to look?"

"No," Ron said. "She just said that Trolls are difficult to kill, so any method that kills them might be of use."

"Does anybody else think this is an odd punishment?" Draco asked, looking through the essays they had already completed. "I mean, most punishment essays are about potion ingredients."

"Maybe it's because he's defense master now," Harry shrugged. "I'm just glad he didn't follow through on what he originally wanted to do."

"That's true," Draco winced. "But why would he want us to learn more about subterfuge? And survival spells? It doesn't make sense."

"You can't always know what that man is thinking," Harry sighed. "But we usually find out sooner or later."

. . .

The three boys stood before Snape's desk one week after the fight, squirming and waiting for his judgment. He casually read through the essays they gave him, each one in a different handwriting.

"Mr. Weasley, name one method of subterfuge for getting in somewhere you aren't supposed to be," he commanded.

"Polyjuice," Ron answered with a loaded look at Harry.

"That can be impractical with the length of time to brew."

"Tell me about it," Ron answered, and then blushed. He was not wanting to mention that specific incidence with Polyjuice.

"Perhaps you could enlighten us as to your vast experience with Polyjuice," Snape told him, his eyes narrowing.

"I believe I do not have to incriminate myself," Ron blushed. "And really, it was years ago."

 _The boomslang skin_ , Snape realized. _It had been those three_. "I do not believe there is a statue of limitations on theft," Snape menaced. "You had better hope that I do not discover definitive evidence of what we both know happened." Though Snape didn't know real specifics, it helped if the young man thought he did.

Ron gulped, looking pale, and nodded.

"Mr. Malfoy, how do you warm yourself if you're somewhere cold?" he asked, moving on. "List three methods."

"A warming spell, creating a fire, or transfiguring something into a blanket," he answered easily.

"Mr. Potter, can you tell me how to get food if you're in need of it?"

"Transfiguration doesn't help with that," Harry answered. "Nor does the room of requirement. However, you can get food and shrink it or put in in stasis spells to help keep it fresh. We also did a list of edible plants in the wild."

"This is adequate work," Snape told them. "But I find your methods for destroying living yet hard to destroy things somewhat lacking. You are entirely too dependent on basilisk venom."

"We had a lot of trouble with that," Harry answered honestly. "It was harder because we didn't know what we were necessarily trying to kill. But in the end we added a few methods for killing trolls because they are living and difficult to kill."

"I judge your punishment to be complete," Snape told them, putting down the papers. "You are free to enjoy the holiday."

"Thank you, sir," Draco told him respectfully as Ron and Harry exchanged congratulatory nudges.

"Now keep out of trouble and for goodness sake don't get into another fistfight or I will have you each bent over the desk before the dust even settles. Am I clear?"

"Clear!" the boys responded, but without real fear. The week of having to work together actually drained much of the animosity between them, and they didn't feel the desire to punch each other as keenly.

"Dismissed," he told them sternly with an extra glare at the Weasley brat. He would have it out of Harry before the end of break. Then, with crashing grief, he realized how little the boomslang skin would matter by the end of break.

"Mr. Potter, I expect you in my quarters this evening after dinner," he told the boy sternly.

"Am I in trouble, sir?" he asked carefully.

"No, it is Christmas eve," he answered, his voice lightening slightly. "I would like to spend the evening together."

"Oh, good then," Harry answered, relieved. "See you then."

. . .

That evening, Harry was surprised as he entered Snape's quarters. The man had obviously tried hard to make his quarters welcoming and Christmassy, there was even a small tree in the corner with a few wrapped gifts under it.

"This is great!" Harry enthused, looking at the candles and holly on the fireplace mantle. "Did the house elves help you?"

"They did it all," Snape answered with chagrin. "I just told them a bit of Christmas, and they went a little crazy."

"I think it looks good," Harry smiled. "You know, growing up Aunt Petunia would always decorate for Christmas, and it was one of the parts I really liked."

"I suppose she couldn't keep you from enjoying the decorations," Snape commented with an edge to his voice.

"No, or she would have," Harry laughed easily. "And even though I knew I wouldn't get a present, I could always hope that maybe I would. I could always dream. Well, until Christmas morning that is."

"I remember wishing that Father Christmas was real," Snape answered, remembering himself. "But he never was. We didn't have decorations either."

"It was such a relief to start having Christmas here," Harry told him, taking a gingerbread biscuit off the plate with a smile. "With presents and everything."

"I agree," Snape answered somberly, not wanting to tell Harry that the gift Harry gave him last year was actually one of the few gifts he'd ever received. Except the thick fuzzy socks that Dumbledore gave him every year, he had a hard time remembering any others. He took a sugar biscuit for himself.

"I'm glad you wanted to hang out tonight," Harry told him, settling himself comfortably on the sofa.

"I thought tomorrow is so busy with the party in the big hall," Snape told him. "I thought a quiet Christmas eve together would be nice."

"I brought you a present," Harry told him, removing a slightly rumpled package from under his robe.

"Excellent," Snape told him. "Why don't you put it under the tree with your presents and we'll open them in a bit."

"You gave me presents?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Of course I did," Snape answered, his voice slightly sharp. "What kind of guardian do you think I am?"

"I know, I got potion supplies," Harry guessed. "A new textbook? A homework organizer?"

"I should have gotten you a new paddle," Snape grumbled, but with some humor in his voice. "And what did you get me? A book about Quidditch? A book titled 'Ten Easy Steps to Become a Nicer Parent?'"

"Maybe it's a potion to improve your disposition," Harry joked back.

"Well, in the spirit of becoming nicer, have some more biscuits," Snape invited him. "There's also tea here too if you want it. We have all evening together."

They joked and chatted, each just enjoying being together. Snape knew that it would be more prudent to use this time to plan and strategize, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. He wanted to enjoy this last time with him together.

"Let's open presents!" Harry eagerly urged Snape. "I'm dying to know what you got me!"

"Alright," Snape agreed, his lips twitching. Why did it seem so endearing when Harry acted like a six year old? His enthusiasm was infectious.

Harry carefully opened the heavy paper, and then the box. He looked in, and then looked up in confusion.

"A knife and a Galleon?" he asked, confused.

"Whenever you give a blade you give a coin as well so that the blade doesn't sever your relationship," Snape told him. "It's an old tradition, but I didn't figure you would mind the coin."

"It's a beautiful knife," Harry told him, unsheathing it from its leather case.

"Goblin-made," Snape told him. "Quite rare. It's also imbued with the venom of a basilisk."

"From our paper!" Harry smiled broadly, his eyes shining.

"It's nice you now know the significance," Snape nodded. "I would hope you would never need to use it, but I am not foolish enough to believe that to be so."

"Open your gift," Harry told him eagerly.

Snape unwrapped the present, completely confused as to what it could be. A small silver frame fell into his lap, and he felt his eyes prick when he realized that it was a framed photo of Harry and himself.

"When was this taken?" Snape asked, his voice slightly shaky.

"I found somewhere on Diagon Alley that could make a photo from a pensieve memory," Harry gushed. "So this is from when we went to the lake together this summer on that picnic. Remember? It was the one where I was doing tricks in the water and fell in."

"I remember," Snape said, looking at the smiling Harry in the photo look up at the at-least-not-frowning Snape with clear affection.

"Sirius helped me," Harry admitted.

"It's perfect," Snape told him with feeling. "Thank you very much."

"I'm glad you like it," Harry looked down, pleased. "It was either that or some pickled Murtlap."

"My supply seems to have remained steady as of late," Snape smirked at him. "But who knows, perhaps another teacher will come and we will need it again."

"I actually owe that horrible Umbridge a debt," Harry confessed. "If she had been a good teacher, I might never have attempted to steal the Murtlap."

"You paid for that crime, I believe."

"Yes, and I got you in the process," Harry smiled a little rakishly. "Sounds like a good deal to me."

"And I believe I've come out better on the deal as well," Snape nodded. "Harry, in the days to come there will be war and violence and subterfuge. But I hope there's one thing that you never doubt. Never doubt that I care for you, and that you are the most important thing to me."

"More important that teaching?" Harry's eyes popped.

"Massively so," Snape rolled his eyes. "Harry, there are three people I've truly cared about in my life. And you are the only one still alive. Don't doubt that."

"I won't," Harry promised.

Snape allowed himself to enjoy the feeling of Harry promising that, although he knew that the promise was likely to be broken. But for that one day, he allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe he could come out of this with Harry's affections intact. He glanced at the picture in his hands, and felt his eyes prickle again. He would enjoy this moment now, because nobody could predict what was to come.


	19. Chapter 19 - Murdering the Headmaster

_AN: In a few days it will be one year since I began posting on this website. It has been a great year full of learning, growth, and connection with others. It has also been hard in learning how to deal with trolls, rude people, overly critical reviews, and my own personal issues and angst over my writing. It's also the reality of finding a hobby that you enjoy as much as I enjoy writing - there has to be boundaries put up or it can begin to affect you real life. But I wanted to take this opportunity to thank all of my faithful readers and the people that have made the sharing of myself artistically through this medium such a sacred experience for me. I also look at what I have written this year and am proud, not necessarily that I think I'm such an amazing writer, but that I was brave._

* * *

"Come in, my boy," Dumbledore welcomed Snape. "And I see you have young Mr. Malfoy with you today."

"We thought we would have a boxing day visit with you," Snape explained, following Draco into Dumbledore's office.

"That sounds very nice," Dumbledore answered. "I don't get enough Slytherins making social calls. Come in, I'll call for tea."

"As a bit of a Christmas gift we brought you some special sugar cubes," Draco offered. "They're a muggle invention, and supposed to be organic, unprocessed sugar. They're all the rage; apparently sugar tastes better unrefined."

"How thoughtful to remember my fondness for muggle sweets!" Dumbledore chortled at the boy. "Thank you so much!"

"At this time of war, we are all cognizant of the need to stand together, Slytherins and all," Snape told him, smoothing his robe over his knee as he sat down. "And it seemed seasonally appropriate."

"Thank you, thank you," Dumbledore smiled and put the sugar cubes on the tea tray. "I believe I shall enjoy three of them with my tea. Shall I get some for you, Draco? I know that Professor Snape takes no sugar in his tea."

"Sadly, I don't take sugar either," Draco answered, seemingly pale. "But perhaps I will have a biscuit."

"Please, help yourself," Dumbledore told them. "Now tell me, how was Christmas for the two of you? Draco, I understand you stayed here?"

"I was here," Draco said, looking down. "It was a quiet Christmas without my family, but the feast yesterday was jolly."

"I seem to remember you spending some of the feast with some classmates in Gryffindor," Dumbledore commented, his eyes sparkling as he sipped his tea.

"Perhaps a bit," Draco answered, sweat now coming down his face. "Professor Snape punished us together over break, and so, I don't know, we are just talking a bit more now."

"I'm glad to see such a change," Dumbledore nodded. "Such an improvement to that unfortunate incident earlier. If scrubbing cauldrons and writing extra essays works a change, then so be it."

"I believe the miscreants have learned their lesson," Snape agreed, seeing how stressed Draco was becoming and trying to redirect the conversation.

"Yes, yes, probably," Dumbledore smiled. "Say, this sugar does have a slightly different flavor than usual sugar in tea. I find it rather nice."

"We're glad you liked the small gift," Snape nodded.

"I hope you don't think that your head of house was too harsh with you," Dumbledore finished his cup and gestured towards Draco. "I believe that he does want what's best for you, and for dear Harry of course as well."

"He does," Draco dully agreed, his eyes downwards and his face looking ready to puke. The biscuit lay forgotten in his hand.

"And do you have plans for the New Year?" he asked Draco.

"I believe that we will be here again," Snape answered for him, seeing his discomfort. "Although I might take Harry to Spinner's end for a few days before the term begins, I'm not sure."

"Make sure you take time to smell the roses, Severus," Dumbledore answered him, his voice becoming a bit dull and his eyes becoming glassy. "Life passes so suddenly."

"Indeed it does," Snape nodded gravely. "I believe that we have finished our tea now, and must bid you goodbye."

"Yes, yes," Dumbledore answered, his voice slowing.

"Perhaps you might like a nap?" Snape asked the man. "You look unwell."

"I'm fine my boy, just fine," he assured them. "I will see you both at breakfast tomorrow."

"Farewell then, Headmaster," Snape nodded and rose from his seat. "We shall look forward to the next time we meet."

"Thank you for the tea, Headmaster," Draco stumbled, his eyes pricking and his stomach churning.

"Thank you my dear boy," he told Draco. "I have always been fond of you Draco, from when you were a tiny little first year with an enormous chip on your shoulder. I believe you have matured well and under difficult circumstances."

"Thank you," Draco replied awkwardly, following Snape's lead but not able to look Dumbledore in the eye.

"Whatever happens, my boy," Dumbledore told them thickly. "Remember that I know more than you think I do, and that I will always forgive you."

"Sir, I need to tell you . . ."

"We should not trouble the headmaster any further," Snape cut Draco off. "We shall go now."

"Yes, sir," Draco answered, looking ready to faint.

They swept out, closing the door behind them.

They walked silently down the hallway, and Snape ushered Draco into his chambers, waving silencing spells around them.

"I believe it might be time to introduce you to fire whiskey," Snape told him, clinking two glasses on the table and summoning the bottle from a cupboard.

"Yes, please," Draco responded. "Merlin, how could that be done?"

"One of the reasons I wanted to help you with this is to take the blame," Snape told him boldly, gulping down the drink and then facing the youth. "In your own heart, I want you to know that I am to blame. You would never have had the idea nor been able to execute it without me. And even then, we both know you were about to tell Dumbledore the truth in time for him to save himself."

"I was," Draco admitted, sipping his drink and gasping at the result.

"The poison won't fully take affect for several hours," Snape told him. "It makes it less suspicious that way. I would ask that you stay the night here, we may need an alibi and the portraits can confirm it."

"I will," he said, setting down the drink largely untouched. "I will. You take the blame, sir, but it was my charge from the Dark Lord."

"As a punishment to your family," Snape crisply replied. "The Dark Lord never expected you to accomplish your task, he expected you to fail and either die in the attempt or be arrested. Who would think a wizard like Dumbledore could be defeated by a seventeen year old wizard, no matter how talented?"

"Then why did you promise to help me?" Draco asked him. "You could have said no to mother."

"I don't believe you know your mother and your aunt well if you believe that," Snape smirked. "But in truth, I did it to protect you. It is rare that I can be induced to make an unbreakable vow, but in this case I acquiesced because of you."

"It's hard to believe that last week you paddled me and this week you're murdering your boss to protect me," Draco shook his head. "It doesn't seem real."

"Our lives are about to get far more real," Snape told him, considering another shot of fire whiskey but ultimately deciding against it. "Dumbledore's death will change everything, and it will start the process that will ultimately bring about the start of the war."

"Will you become headmaster, sir?" Draco asked.

"Probably," Snape told him. "Although it shall be McGonagall at first, she is the deputy. But the Dark Lord would like one loyal to him, of course, so it will likely be me eventually. And therein lies most of our difficulties. There are things I must tell you, Mr. Malfoy, but also things that I cannot. If we work together, we shall survive this."

"I trust you," Draco told him, and meant it. He also knew he now had no choice in any honor, Snape had just killed to protect him.

"Good, then I shall make you up a bed," Snape nodded. "But we shall both need our rest tonight, as the world as we know it will fall apart on the morrow." Snape only wished he knew how much of it would fall apart.

"Thank you sir," Draco told him as he looked at his bed and thought about the next day. It frightened him to think of how much was going to change.

"You're welcome," Snape told him, with feeling. He had known the price he was paying, and he would pay it again. But it would not be for any person that he would do it. "Do you need dreamless sleep? I understand that this is your first murder and therefore discomfiting."

"I would like some, thank you," Draco said, relieved. He didn't know any other way he would be able to sleep this night.

"Here you go then," Snape handed him a small vial. "I anticipated its need. I'm going to retire now to my own thoughts, but get me if you need me."

"Yes, sir," he answered. "Thank you."

Snape then retired to his bed, but he did not grant himself the mercy that he gave Draco. For him there would be no absolution, and for him there would be no dreamless sleep. It was a dangerous gambit that he ran, and he would have to be as lucky as Merlin himself to accomplish what he hoped to accomplish.

. . .

Far away, in the Headmaster's quarters, a heart slowed. It struggled to pump, but the heart couldn't continue. It slowed, gradually, without a whimper from the inert body it inhabited. Then, the heart stopped, and the lungs breathed out their last. The body trembled, and then crumpled a bit. House elves, not generally permitted in the Headmaster's quarters, became restless and a Phoenix's cry was heard, shaking the castle. Nobody thought to check on the Headmaster until early in the morning, when Professor Flitwick missed him at their weekly morning tea time.


	20. Chapter 20 - Yelling at Snape

_AN: A thank you to Dixie.f.9 for the image of Severus balancing on a knife. I loved it so much I had to include it in the story._

* * *

Snape sat at the funeral of the Headmaster, watching the people around him with interest. McGonagall showed signs of weeping previously, but remained stoic and stern in the face of the public funeral. Hagrid was certainly less reserved, large tears rolled down his reddened face. Even though Snape did not particularly like the enormous groundskeeper, he couldn't help but be moved by the honest devotion and grief shown on his simple face. It was clear the giant worshipped the former headmaster.

Some students made the trek back for the New Year's Eve funeral, but more stayed away than came. Snape could understand; people were scared. Too much support shown for the former headmaster could seem like taking a side. And, of course, many people were convinced that Voldemort might take this funeral as an opportunity to make some sort of political statement, and that could mean people killed. Those students that were there were mostly Gryffindor; they let their bravery overrule their common sense, even when it was their children involved.

Snape purposely didn't look at Harry, he knew he couldn't do what he needed to do if he looked at the boy. He saw his friend Granger's red-rimmed eyes, however, and felt the sinking feeling of guilt deeply. The grief he had inflicted upon his ward was going to be one of the things he regretted the most doing to the boy. The night that it came to light that Dumbledore had died had found Harry in Snape's quarters, and the boy sobbing with abandon in his grief. Snape had placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, and Harry had actually taken that as an invitation and hugged him! Hugged Snape! Right there in his office! Snape had hardly known what to do in response, but he found his own arms traitorously encircling the boy and even patting his back! And, though Snape would never admit it to himself, he had found the hug calming as well.

But now, he could hardly remember that hug without blushing and feeling overwhelmed with guilt. He knew he had been the cause of his ward's pain, and his machinations had left the boy sobbing for days. And now his plan had required something even more of him, and something he was not even allowed to explain. He had written a letter, delivered that morning.

 _Dear Murtlap Thief,_

 _I cannot tell you why I am asking this, but when I stand up to give the Eulogy I need you to interrupt after the first few sentences. You need to publically accuse me of murdering Dumbledore, and if you could show some passion that would be helpful. I swear that I did not murder Dumbledore, but I need to be accused of it. And, for your own safety, you need to publically break with me. You then need to take your two best friends and go and join your Dogfather, he will be expecting you but will be just as confused as you are. I will meet you there as soon as it is safe and explain everything. This letter itself is a port-key, and will take you and your friends where you need to go with the words, "We're leaving now."_

 _I promise that I have weighed all the options, and this is the way that will give both of us the greatest odds of surviving the coming war, and for our side to have a chance at winning. Dumbledore was in full agreement with this plan before his death._

 _I'm sorry that I need to ask you to do this with no preparations and with not allowing you to ask questions, but it is imperative that you trust me and do as I ask. You will have plenty of time later to rant at me if you do not deem my reasons good enough._

 _SS_

He knew that making such a request of Harry was a little bit like waving a red flag in front of the bull, but he couldn't figure out a way to plan this with Harry otherwise. He would ask too many inconvenient questions, and Snape needed his emotions and his passions to be authentic if this were to work. Too many people were too observant, and so he had had to lie and trick Harry. He sighed; it was the life of a spy. He lived life walking along the blade of a sharp knife; he only hoped he could make it to the end without falling and slicing himself or someone he loved.

Several teachers gave short eulogies about Dumbledore and how he recruited and inspired them. McGonagall was last, and in her terse Scots accent that always seemed to broaden when she felt emotional, she made a few quips about Dumbledore's leadership and kindness, as well as his fondness for muggle sweets. She had talked about how he was getting on in years but still pushed himself to work, and it was probably this work that pushed his heart beyond where it could go.

"And in conclusion, I would like to announce that the governing board to this school has held an emergency meeting to appoint a new Headmaster before term starts again in a few days," she announced, her emotions gone and her voice clipped and business-like. "I would like to welcome Professor Severus Snape to the platform to speak as Hogwart's newest Headmaster."

Snape swept up to the podium, carefully setting his facial features to stoicism and sternness. He would now have to begin his act as stern and dangerous Headmaster.

"Thank you, Professor McGonagall," he nodded towards his deputy soberly. "It seems inauspicious to begin my term as Headmaster at a funeral, but I think that former Headmaster Dumbledore would approve . . ."

"You're a liar!" he heard Harry shout from the crowd. Even though he was expecting this and had even asked Harry to do this, he still felt the pain of those words on his heart.

"Be silent!" he barked at the miscreant.

"You killed him!" Harry pressed on, looking for all the world like he was in a grief-induced rage. "You murdered him! How dare you stand now where he stood? Saying that he would approve? You betrayed him and you're going to ruin everything this school stands for!"

"Silence!" Snape roared, aiming a _Petrificus Totalus_ spell at the boy which he handily blocked.

"You can't silence the truth!" Harry yelled, his cheeks wet with tears. "And I will be damned if I'm going to sit here and listen to you lie any more! As far as I'm concerned you are not my guardian anymore, I hate you!" Then, taking the hands of Hermione and Ron who were standing beside him, he yelled, "We're leaving now!" and vanished.

Snape blinked, looking at the spot where they had been standing and then were suddenly gone. The crowd sat in silent shock as it looked to the place where Harry and his friends had been, and then slowly back to the newest Headmaster.

"I believe some detentions might be in order," Snape drawled, and a few of the people in the crowd tittered nervously. Then, recovering himself from the shock of the pain that Harry's words caused, he said seriously, "My ward has been highly distraught of late and has not been sleeping due to the grief of Professor Dumbledore's passing. I ask that you excuse him and allow me to deal with his misbehavior. Now, though I am not planning on ruining the school, there will be changes made. We are in a time of much upheaval, and I believe that a time of returning to our roots and traditions as a wizarding community will help cement our culture and way of life. We all admire Professor Dumbledore for the work that he did, but it is time for Hogwarts to launch into a new era. Thank you."

Snape endured the nervous congratulations from his colleagues and parents, and the wide-eyed, fearful stares from several of the students. He knew that now was not the time for reassurance, so he glared right back at them. Now was the time for him to play his role.

. . .

Harry waited in Grimmauld place, sipping cold tea and nibbling on stale biscuits. Snape had been right that Sirius knew next to nothing about Snape's plans, he had received a note similar to that of Harry's and just knew to expect them.

"I can't believe you said those things, mate," Ron told him, wolfing down another biscuit. "That took real balls."

"You saw the note," Hermione told him, putting down the stale biscuit with distaste. "Harry did what Professor Snape asked him to do. He just did a thorough job."

"I'll have to admit it was a bit fun to yell at him in public," Harry admitted, a sad smile on his face. "But what do you think he meant that he needed to be accused of something that he didn't do?"

"Probably to ingratiate himself to the Dark Lord," Sirius mused. "Being accused by Harry Potter is almost as good as having committed the murder himself."

"Where's Lupin?" Harry asked suddenly, frowning. "Shouldn't he be here?"

"He's been infiltrating an important pack of werewolves," Sirius explained, looking down. "It's been right quiet around here without him."

"Did Snape send him a message as well?" Harry asked.

"I don't know," Sirius answered. "It might just be the group of us here."

"We're putting a lot of trust in Snape," Ron said a little doubtfully, taking another biscuit. "What if this is some elaborate ploy?"

"He cares about me," Harry answered stubbornly. "We need to trust him."

"You sound like Dumbledore," Ron rolled his eyes. "What is it about this bloke that inspires such unguarded loyalty when he behaves so much like a prat most of the time?"

Harry, deciding to not start yelling at Ron, simply shrugged. "He won't betray me," Harry answered simply. "I just know it."

Time passed slowly at Grimmauld place, with grief and anxiety taking up most of the energy in the room. Kreacher served a supper of stew and bread, and even Ron could barely eat the meal. Harry wondered how Sirius could survive such thoughtless cooking, but he seemed largely unaffected by the flavor of the stew nor the staleness of the bread. Harry found he couldn't eat anything, so instead he resumed his brooding as Hermione attempted to read.

The evening passed with the minutes ticking by in slow, methodical determination. Though Harry didn't say, the passing of time made him more and more anxious about seeing his guardian. Did he overdo what had been asked of him? Or worse yet, did Snape somehow trick him into disowning him in order to be well-shod of the guardianship?

"I hope he comes soon," Harry said to the room, his voice dull.

"Of course you do," Hermione sighed, looking up from the book that had managed to not keep her attention. "He'll be here when it's safe."

"What if he's mad at me?" Harry asked, his voice whispering vulnerability. "What if I did it wrong?"

"You did fine, mate," Ron assured him. "You did what he asked you to do. He even said he wanted to to show some passion, which you did. Quit worrying."

"Ron's right," Hermione agreed. "You did what he asked."

"Although we have no bloody idea as to why he asked that," Ron shrugged. "We have no choice but to wait for the man to explain himself."

"What if it was a trick?" Harry asked, still worrying. "What if someone else wrote that letter?"

"Then I think your arse is toast," Ron grinned back at him. "C'mon Harry, I've yelled things like that at my parents before. Not in front of a crowd at a funeral, granted, but it's really not that big of a deal. If I'd said those things I'd have gotten a good walloping for disrespect and a stern lecture on how I was wrong, that's it. And you have the letter that shows that he asked you to do it."

"I think it was real," Hermione told him. "And so do you, really. You're just anxious and are finding reasons to justify it."

"Very few people know where to find me," Sirius chimed in. "So I think it had to be Snape."

The fire died down in the sitting room, and one by one the occupants of the room dropped off to sleep. Even with all of the worry and anxiety in their minds, they still had to obey their need for sleep. Even Sirius did not find his bed, but rather napped sitting up in his chair. Everyone eagerly awaited Snape coming, and did not want to admit he might not come until morning.

And so it was in the very early morning light that Snape arrived by port-key in the sitting room of number 12, Grimmauld place.


	21. Chapter 21 - Surprising Harry

Snape looked fondly at his ward who had curled up on the sofa and was fast asleep. The words that Harry had yelled at him had certainly hurt, but looking at his sleeping face now Snape felt that hurt mend. He knew that the boy had just been doing what asked, and had spent the evening eagerly awaiting the explanation. With a sigh, Snape knew that they all deserved that. He reached out and grasped Harry's shoulder gently.

"Wake up, Harry," he said softly. "I'm here to take you somewhere else."

"Snape?" Harry asked, rubbing his eyes and looking around confused. It took him a second to remember what had happened, and then his face became stricken. "I'm so sorry!" he blurted, close to tears.

"Why?" Snape cut him off with a concerned face. "You did precisely what I asked, and in a very believable way. You were perfect, Harry."

"I was?" he asked, wanting to believe.

"Of course," Snape nodded. "You trusted me completely and did precisely as I asked, which made all the difference. Even in your understandable grief and doubts you have you're your head. Your bravery will likely be what saves us all."

"Really?" Harry asked, squirming under this unexpected praise.

"Of course," Snape told him. "Now let's wake your friends, I believe we have a lot to discuss."

The other three in the room groggily awoke, blinking at the form of Severus Snape before them. "You know, if I'd had evil intentions you would all be dead," Snape told them. "The security here is dreadful."

"There are wards," Sirius answered sleepily.

"I suppose," Snape agreed. "Now I have much to tell you. Firstly, none of you will be returning to school."

"What?" Hermione protested. "How could that be?"

"Hogwarts will become increasingly uncomfortable for muggle-borns," Snape explained to her in a business-like voice. "You would not have been there more than a month more anyway. And the three of you, with the help of Sirius, Lupin, myself and another that I shall reveal, have a great deal of work before you."

"Work?" Ron asked in confusion. "What work?"

"I have much to explain," Snape admitted. "This is going to take some time, and I don't believe this is the best place to do it. We must go to the safe house."

"You have a safe house?" Harry asked incredulously.

"I have been planning this for some time," Snape told him. "The house is part of it."

"Where is it?" Hermione asked, trying to come to terms with the radical change her life was about to take.

"A large and boring suburb of London," Snape told her. "As non-descript and magic-free as I could find. It's called Croydon."

"My floo is shut down, obviously," Sirius reminded him.

"I have port-keys," Snape told them, handing each of them a necklace with a medallion on it. "Make sure you obscure these when you are out. The key word is the name of Headmaster Dumbledore's pet."

"So you are still loyal to him," Ron confirmed, but his voice had doubts.

"You have no idea," Snape replied to him, sounding tired. "But you are about to find out. Alright, everyone, activate your port-keys."

"Fawkes!" they all said, holding their medallions. Harry felt that familiar tug at his naval, and soon found himself dumped out onto cream-colored carpet. He looked around at the creamy walls and the non-descript furniture, and found himself shivering at feeling like they were back in the muggle world. He half-expected Aunt Petunia to come out of the kitchen.

"Welcome to number six, Parkview Circle," they heard a voice greet them that they couldn't believe they were hearing.

Harry looked up to see Dumbledore, with his flowing robes and his eyes merrily twinkling, holding his arms out in welcome.

"Dumbledore?" Harry asked, awestruck. "But you're . . ."

"Dead?" he helpfully supplied. "Not yet, my boy, but soon enough. With Severus' help I have cheated the grave for another six months or so."

The four new people looked between Snape and Dumbledore, none knowing what to say.

"We should begin at the beginning," Snape told them, taking charge of the situation. "And I'm going to ring for tea. I assume that Posy has taken residence?"

"Of course," Dumbledore answered. "She has been caring for me quite well. Posy, could we have some tea please?"

"Right away, sirs," a small house-elf in a colorful dishtowel popped and then out again. Within a few minutes they had strong English tea with bread, scones, boiled eggs, sausages and fruit. Nobody had felt particularly hungry before, but on seeing the delicious food set before them they each began filling their plates.

"We should start by explaining that I am dying," Dumbledore told them, brandishing a darkened, withered hand. "Due to a cursed ring I foolishly put on several months ago. Due to his brilliance in potions Professor Snape has been able to stave off the curse for as long as possible, but my days on this earth are more numbered than most."

"Is there no way to cure it?" Harry asked, looking at the hand with concern.

"None that we have been able to find," Snape answered him gently. "I still search."

"My original plan was to have Severus kill me in view of the death-eaters," Dumbledore explained. "That would cement his loyalty to Voldemort and make him an unquestionable spy. However, Severus had other ideas."

"With the task before us, we needed every day you could live," Snape explained. "And since Dumbledore has so little time left, we decided to move up the original timeline and have me murder him now. He could be much more useful to us than just as a murder victim."

"But how was it done?" Hermione asked. "Surely people checked to see if he was actually dead."

"The draught of the Living Death," Dumbledore chuckled. "With some special modifications made by the youngest Potion Master in five centuries."

"A tricky potion, but not impossible," Snape acknowledged. "And then after I removed Dumbledore from his grave, I placed a golem in there to take his place. It was enough to fool whom we needed to fool. We also have allies that helped us."

"Who knows he's still alive?" Hermione asked.

"Poppy," Snape acknowledged. "And the people in this room. It is of utmost importance that this information never becomes public, for obvious reasons."

"What if we're captured?" Ron asked.

"Do your best to avoid it," Snape told him. "Use your port-key to return here, if you can. But if this information becomes known, I am likely dead within the hour."

That information settled on those in the room, and they looked around soberly.

"Since we all risk so much, we decided to tell you everything," Dumbledore told them. "We will answer any questions you have at the end, but for now please listen to the story. I hope you appreciate the risk we are taking, but we have decided that it is worth the risk."

"There have been many things we couldn't tell you until now," Snape told them quietly. "You don't know how it grieved me to cause you all such grief and sadness, knowing that Dumbledore was still alive but letting you believe him to be dead. But we had no choice, your grief had to be real."

"And it is for that lie that we are most sorry," Dumbledore nodded. "But hopefully at the end of the story you will understand more. If not, Severus and I are fully prepared to take your wrath. Now, children, has anybody ever heard of a horcrux before?"

And so Dumbledore and Snape told their story about the plans that had been years in the making. They told them what they knew of the horcruxes, what they feared, and the plans they had. Harry saw more clearly than he ever had what being a spy had cost his guardian, and how much he risked to defeat Voldemort.

"How many horcruxes are there?" Hermione asked as their story drew to a close.

"We don't know," Dumbledore admitted. "I believe that Horace Slughorn has this information, but he has not been forthcoming."

"We are two down," Snape told them. "The diary and the ring that cursed Dumbledore are now destroyed. We have a lead on a third."

"It is horrendous to contemplate even making one," Dumbledore told them. "Splitting your soul can make you dangerously unstable. It is hard to imagine that there are more, but there must be."

"How do we know that the horcrux isn't some nondescript stone thrown on the bottom of the ocean?" Hermione asked.

"That would certainly be a logical tack to take," Snape nodded, appreciating her assessment. "But we believe the Dark Lord to be too proud for that. The diary was the first try at it, but as he went on we believe that he chose items of significance to the wizarding community in an effort to legitimize his position. So he would want to keep these items safe, but also available for display should he choose to do so."

"Have you made a list of suitable artifacts?" she asked.

"We have," Dumbledore answered with a chuckle. "See, Severus, I told you that they would be helpful. We have a list of about thirty artifacts that would be likely targets."

"He liked Hogwarts," Harry told them, considering. "I think that likely many of the artifacts will be related to Hogwarts if he can do it."

"What, like the sword of Gryffindor?" Ron asked.

"The sword would not be suitable," Snape answered him. "It answers to Gryffindors. But there are several artifacts on this list related to Hogwarts. The cup of Helga Hufflepuff, for one."

"What about Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem?" Hermione asked.

"But that has been lost for centuries," Dumbledore protested.

"We should still consider it," Harry agreed. "Riddle has a way of finding these things."

"There is another thing we must consider," Dumbledore looked soberly at Harry. "Your connection to the Dark Lord is not understood well, Harry. But how did you feel about the diary?"

"I was scared at the time," Harry admitted. "But there was something creepily familiar about it. Something drew me."

"I believe that you are going to be our greatest tool in finding these horcruxes," Dumbledore told him with a sad smile. "I think that due to your connection with the Dark Lord you will be able to recognize them."

"Before we go any further, however," Snape interrupted. "We need to offer our sincere apology for the sadness and pain we've caused you. It was the hardest part of our plan."

"They understand, Severus," Dumbledore told him softly.

"Yet I still wish their forgiveness," Snape answered, fixing his eyes on Harry. "Do you three forgive the lies we have had to tell?"

"We know why you had to do it," Hermione told him.

"But do you forgive us?" Snape pressed. "Understanding is different. If you need time to forgive, I understand that as well."

Harry considered. He could feel the anger at being lied to about Dumbledore's death even though in his mind he understood the actions that Snape had taken. But what was the cost of not forgiving? He knew that he wanted a relationship with Snape, and he knew that forgiveness was a cost of that. He remembered when he looked in the Pensieve and Snape had had to make a choice to forgive him, even though he was angry. But Snape had been angry at Harry's thoughtless intrusion, Harry knew that Snape had had little choice but to act as he did if he wanted a chance to win the war.

Snape saw his hesitation, and nodded. "Please don't feel that you need to offer your forgiveness now," he told Harry calmly. "But please know that I want it and will do what it takes to secure it."

"I forgive you," Harry told him softly, and Snape nodded in surprise. "I know you wouldn't choose to cause that unless you had to, and I know it hurt you to hurt me."

"It did," Snape agreed. "But don't feel that you have to forgive me."

"I don't," Harry told him.

"But I lied to you," Snape told him. "You cried for days because I couldn't tell you the truth. You even hugged me."

Harry turned red remembering the hug, but then he laughed a bit. "Yeah, you did. But it sounds as if you don't want me to forgive you," he told Snape.

"I just want to make sure you forgive me and don't just feel like you have to do it," Snape told him, looking down. "You have been hurt a lot in life, that makes it harder to forgive."

"I have been hurt," Harry nodded. "But this is different. First, you actually apologized. Secondly, I can tell that it really hurts you that you hurt me. That really makes the difference."

"That is what helped me forgive you with the Pensieve," Snape told him, understanding. "When I saw that it grieved you, I realized that I could forgive you."

"I did pay a penalty as well," Harry joked. "But yes, the punishment was not the hardest part. The hardest part was that I'd hurt you, and that it made you not like me. I would have done anything to fix that."

"I feel the same way," Snape answered gravely. "Except I do not believe I will be paying the same penalty. But thank you for forgiving me."

"Great, forgiveness all around," Ron announced. "Let's bloody get on with destroying these horcruxes."

 _AN: I hope this was a surprising chapter, let me know what you think._


	22. Chapter 22 - Punching Allies

_AN: I toyed with the idea of ending this story and writing a third to make a trilogy, but there just didn't seem like a natural break to me. So this is going to be a bit longer than I had anticipated! Hope you're enjoying the story._

* * *

They spent the day planning and talking, with endless questions and books being pulled out for research. Eventually the children went to bed, and the three adults sat in the beige and taupe sitting room. They were under no illusion that the children were going to sleep, but it seemed the proper time to separate and discuss in their own separate groups. Sirius, still a bit in shock, kept staring and Dumbledore as if he didn't believe it.

"I think this calls for some fire whiskey," Dumbledore told him.

"Candy is dandy but liquor is quicker," Snape replied, feeling tired.

"What?" Dumbledore answered, amused.

"Just a silly quote from a silly muggle movie," Snape answered, rubbing his temple. "Let's just say it's been a hard week. Pour me a double."

"I can't really believe this is happening," Sirius said, accepting his drink. "I mean, what you guys pulled off with Dumbledore's death . . ."

"It's all Severus," Dumbledore smirked. "As I said, my plan was to have Severus murder me in front of death eaters to cement his place."

"That would have been a waste of your mind for the time we have," Snape told him firmly. "You shall not get off so easily."

"But you guys lied to the entire wizarding world!" Sirius exclaimed, quaffing his drink with a small grimace.

"Think of it as pranking the public," Snape told him. "Perhaps it will make it easier to grasp."

"But why?" Sirius asked, not even looking as Dumbledore poured him another drink.

"We needed Severus as headmaster," Dumbledore explained. "I couldn't do what needed to be done and still be headmaster. Besides, though Voldemort has enough power now to get Severus appointed, it's better to begin our plans before he's at full power.

"Hogwarts is going to be rough," Snape told them. "I've laid some groundwork with Draco Malfoy and Neville Longbottom to help protect the populace, but it's going to be rough. Let's just say that my tenure as Headmaster should be brief, and I hope that McGonagall is Headmistress by September."

"Or you if you no longer have to play for the Dark side," Dumbledore nodded.

"Or you if we can find a cure," Snape shot back.

"We would already have found one if one existed," Dumbledore shook his head sadly, looking at his darkened hand. "But I am ready. Death doesn't scare me."

"Are you insane?" Sirius asked him, quaffing the second drink. "And people think that my sanity is compromised."

"This may sound insane," Dumbledore told him, eyes twinkling. "But it really is the best chance we have of winning this thing."

"How many Horcruxes are there?" Sirius asked.

"We think that the Dark Lord intended to make seven," Snape answered him. "Seven is a powerful number, and he always has a thing for those. But we are unsure with whether he was successful or not in attaining that number. I think we have to assume seven and then be proven wrong if needed."

"We're two down," Dumbledore supplied helpfully. "The diary was one and the cursed ring that will kill me is the other. And I have a good lead on a third."

"What's your lead?" Snape asked, rubbing his temple.

"You know how he has a thing for his childhood," Dumbledore answered. "I have discovered that there was a cave that he visited with his orphanage on summer holiday. It was on the beach, and we know he did something to scare children very badly there. I think it's worth a visit."

"We will do that first, then," Snape nodded. "Tomorrow night."

"I could just take Harry . . ." Dumbledore started.

"Are you insane?" Snape asked him hoarsely. "This is not the time for silly heroics. We have a team and we will use it."

"I'm going," Sirius told him, grasping that there was some bravery at stake here.

"Of course you are," Snape told him, standing up again and pacing. "And so are Ron, Hermione and myself. Whatever we encounter there can use extra wands."

"What about Remus?" Dumbledore asked.

"I think he's in too deep with Greyback to bother him now," Sirius told them. "I'd hate to interrupt his work."

"He doesn't even know I'm alive now," Dumbledore told them. "But really, the less contact the better. We'll contact him when we need to do so."

"If we are doing this together there needs to be a leader," Snape told them. "And it needs to be me or Dumbledore. And everyone has to pledge to follow him."

"It should be you, Severus," Dumbledore answered, looking him firmly in the eye. "Of course it should be. No questions."

"Then you will both pledge to follow my lead?" he said. "If we are going in to war there may not be time for democracy."

"I will follow you," Sirius agreed. "I may not like you, but you're dead smart and good at strategy. And I know you won't let anything happen to Harry."

"Thank you," Snape answered, feeling strangely honored by the man's honesty.

"But there is one more thing," he said, putting down his drink. He stood up, walked over to Snape, and said clearly, "Don't every lie to me like that again, and really don't do it to Harry." With that, he let his fist fly at a very surprised Professor Snape.

The blow hit but not hard, turning Snape's face but not knocking him down. Snape drew his wand in automatic response, crying out angrily. Sirius stood there, not drawing his wand, and expecting Snape to hex him where he stood. Snape had a particularly painful stinging hex on his lips, but then caught himself. It was probably Sirius' lack of self-protection that stopped him, and he narrowed his eyes.

"Why did you do that?" he spat at the man, rubbing his cheek that had been hit.

"You deserved it," Sirius answered, meeting his eyes levelly. "You could have done this in a way that didn't cost Harry so much emotionally."

"It would not have been as effective."

"But look what it cost him," Sirius answered levelly. "Hex me if you want, hit me back if you must, but you know I'm right."

Snape found that he couldn't answer that, and watched silently as Sirius turned and left the room.

"You agree with him," Snape said to Dumbledore after Sirius left.

"I don't," Dumbledore observed. "But you do."

"Agree with punching me?" Snape asked incredulously. "I should have hexed him."

"But you didn't," Dumbledore told him. "And that's the reason why. You had so much guilt watching Harry cry for the past several days that you could hardly stand it. I think Sirius punching you was a relief in a way."

"A relief?"

"Yes," Dumbledore nodded. "Being punished is much easier than being guilty."

"I didn't want to be punched," Snape protested.

"Of course you didn't," Dumbledore answered. "But it's easier than guilt. Do you remember that time I caned you all those years ago?"

"Yes," Snape answered. "It's when you realized about my . . . past."

"Yes," Dumbledore answered. "Even though the cane was much more common then, I usually didn't punish children to change their behavior. Then, as now, I don't believe that it works very well."

"Then why did you do it?"

"To deal with guilt," Dumbledore answered him. "If I remember right you hexed two of your classmates."

"They called me 'mudblood,'" Snape recalled. "I believe I used a blasting curse at them, knocking them into the wall."

"Your anger fueled that hex far stronger than a normal first-year would have done," Dumbledore nodded. "Anger based on fear caused by the abuse you suffered. One had a cracked skull and the other had a broken pelvis. They were both in the infirmary for a week."

"And I know you could have expelled me," Snape answered, feeling the shame and the horror he had felt at that age. "I was relieved when you brought out the cane."

"I know," Dumbledore told him. "I saw the horror in your eyes at what you had done, and the overwhelming guilt. How did you feel after I caned you?"

"My backside was quite sore," Snape admitted. "Sitting down was pretty brutal the next day. Even though you were much kinder than my former headmaster had been about it, it still bloody hurt."

"Of course it did," Dumbledore confirmed. "But I mean emotionally. Did you sleep that night or stay awake replaying the breaking of your housemate's skull?"

"I slept," Snape admitted. "I did feel as if I had paid for it."

"I never caned you again after that," Dumbledore told him. "And true, I am reluctant to cane children I knew had been abused. But I would have if another situation had arisen where I thought it needful."

"I did that for Harry too," Snape told him. "He felt so guilty when he attacked Draco with my spell, and he felt much better afterwards."

"So you did," Dumbledore agreed. "And if I were a kind man, I would offer you the cane now."

"For lying to Harry?"

"Yes," Dumbledore told him, eyes sparkling. "But I am not that kind. I'm afraid you will have to be a grown-up about it and accept his forgiveness instead."

Snape thought about what was said, and asked, "Why is a cane easier to accept than forgiveness?"

"That is an excellent question," Dumbledore answered him. "And one you have to work out for yourself. I do want to say how impressed I was with how seriously you took the hurt you caused Harry and how you asked for forgiveness from him. Many guardians in your position would have expected Harry to simply deal with it and move on. You realized it was a violation of trust and acted accordingly. Bravo."

"It was a breach of trust," Snape answered, blushing. "It was honestly the hardest part of the whole thing."

"And I find that ethical code you have to be one of your greatest strengths," Dumbledore nodded. "And why I think you should lead us."

"I'm not a nice person," Snape answered defensively.

"Of course not."

"People don't like me."

"Not generally," Dumbledore answered, nearly chuckling.

"I am a spy and a liar," Snape tried again. "How do you even know I'm not secretly a spy for Voldemort and leading you into a trap?"

"I'm staking my life on it," Dumbledore answered seriously. "And the fate of the entire wizarding world. I trust you, Severus. And despite your best efforts I like you as well."

"There is no accounting for taste," Snape grumbled.


	23. Chapter 23 - Drinking Potions

On the day that Harry should have resuming classes, he instead found himself apparated to a remote English beach. Given that it was January, the beach was completely deserted and grey and drizzly. Harry found himself thinking this was the least likely place for a beach holiday that he could imagine.

"This is the place," Dumbledore confirmed. "Tom had several of his classmates in that cave over there and frightened them badly. I have to believe this could be a place to hide one."

"Seems likely," Snape agreed, surveying the beach. "The wards are strong, with the anti-apparition spells as expected. So, everyone knows their part?"

Soft sounds of assent was sounded, and Snape once again looked towards the mouth of the cave. It certainly looked ominous to be the repository for a stray piece of the Dark Lord's soul, and he hoped that Dumbledore's guess had been correct. But why else would it be so heavily warded? Snape reasoned.

The motley group of wizards made their way along the beach to the mouth of the cave. Climbing down the narrow, wet path to the opening they braced themselves. Everyone knew this would be an ordeal.

"Lumos!" Sirius commanded as they walked into the cave, lighting their way.

They entered the main part of the cave, where they stood at the shore of an enormous black lake. Faint green light flickered on the roof of the cave, and they could barely make out shapes on what looked the far side.

"There's a boat," Dumbledore observed, seeing a small boat on the shore of the water in the cave.

"Do you suppose we're supposed to take it?" Harry asked.

"Why else would it be here?" Ron reasoned.

"Perhaps we should take caution," Snape observed. "And not all of us fit anyway."

"It's spelled to only take one wizard of age," Dumbledore told them, putting his hands over the boat. "But an underage wizard shouldn't have a problem."

Dumbledore drew back his wand like a fishing pole and flung the ball of light across the water, where it hovered.

"There," Dumbledore pointed. "That has to be it." They all looked to see a shore across the water, with a pedestal on the bank.

"And we just take the boat so conveniently left for us?" Snape asked with sarcasm.

"It might not work unless we do," Dumbledore told him. "That's the way these things usually work."

"Perhaps one or two go in the boat and the rest use broomsticks," Snape conceded. "Perhaps Dumbledore and Ron, he looks nice and strong."

Ron nodded, glad to have a job even if it was just rowing.

"I'll go first," Snape nodded. "I'll signal when it's time."

Snape then, with a flourish, had his robe melt into smoke and flew over to the other side. Harry had seen his unassisted flight before, but couldn't help but smirk at Hermione's gasp beside him.

"That man has style," Sirius admired. "Never mastered that broomless flight myself."

"Why do it?" Ron shrugged. "Using a broom is easy enough."

"Row, peon," Harry smirked, pulling out his shrunken broom from his pocket as he saw Snape's signal from the other side. "Race you."

"This is not a race," Dumbledore smirked. "And please be careful of the inferi in the water."

"Inferi?" Ron asked, joking suddenly gone.

"They shouldn't attack us now," Dumbledore told him cheerfully. "My guess is that they will attack if the water is disturbed. Didn't you feel them in the water?"

"Now that you mention it . . ." Harry acknowledged. "It does feel very . . . strange here. Is that why?"

"Partly," Dumbledore nodded. "I think the other part we will soon see. Now what was that charming term, Harry? Race you?"

Harry, trying to smile, nodded and mounted his broom. He saw Hermione do the same, though he knew that she had never been a big fan of flying. With some trepidation, they each made their way over to the other side of the water. Harry, once he was in mid-air over the water, looked down to see Ron rowing the small rowboat over to the other side. With a shiver of disgust, he saw the pale bodies of the inferi drifting through the black water, and seeming to teem slightly around the boat. The boat cut through the water nearly seamlessly, and Harry soon found himself landed on the far side of the lake just ahead of the boat.

"This basin is full of a potion," Snape observed once they had gathered around it. "And if I'm correct it's one that needs to be drunk."

"Drunk?" Harry asked, incredulous. "What if it's poison?"

"It's not poison," Snape told him firmly. "Just very unpleasant. It makes the drinker feel weakened, it makes them see horrible things, and it makes their insides burn. Of course, it dehydrates them."

"So when you try and get some water to slake your thirst . . ." Sirius shivered, looking at the pale forms of the inferi.

"They grab you," Ron nodded. "This whole thing is a trap."

"And a very wicked one," Hermione agreed. "So what do we do?"

"I take the potion," Snape told them, straightening his robe. "Obviously I am the best choice."

"It should be me!" Dumbledore protested.

"You are weakened by the curse already," Snape told him in a voice that brooked no opposition. "I am the best at occlumency, it should be me."

"I'm more expendable," Sirius argued.

"While that's undoubtedly true," Snape agreed with a sneer. "I believe that some of your other talents are needed in this situation."

"Such as?" he asked, confused.

"Your penchant for causing me pain," Snape quipped. "I need someone to feed me the potion and not quit if I were to ask them to stop. It will be . . . unpleasant. I will be seeing horrible things, be in some discomfort, and will beg for water. Conjured water will not work. Then the rest of you need to make sure that nothing disturbs the water, because if we touch the water we will be set upon by the inferi."

"I agree with Severus," Albus agreed. "Sirius, are you up for this?"

"I am," he said uncertainly. "But I'm really not as bad as all of that . . ."

"Spare us the denials," Snape rolled his eyes. "If you were as bad as all that you would be on the other team, correct? But this is not something I can ask someone like Harry to do to me."

"I think that would depend on how you were treating him lately," Sirius smirked. "Lots of teens would like to see their parents in pain. Alright, what do I do?"

"I could do it!" Harry protested.

"Of course you could," Snape told him, gentling his voice. "But it would be unreasonable to ask you unless there were no other choice. It will be quite unpleasant."

"Perhaps we should send the youngsters home," Sirius suggested.

"No, they should know the war they're fighting," Dumbledore interrupted.

"And they will be reinforcements against the inferi," Snape told them. Then, fixing a stern eye on his ward, he threatened smoothly, "Harry, I expect you to control yourself just as I will have to. If you try and stop it or interfere because it is unpleasant for me, I will put you over my knee right here, is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," Harry replied, understanding what Snape was trying to say. Snape knew this would be hard for him, and he was saying to be strong.

"Everyone now, wands out and at the ready," Snape directed. "Sirius, if you would accommodate me?"

"What do I do?" he asked, pretending confidence.

"Force me to drink," Snape told him. "No matter what I say and no matter if I beg you must make me drink it. When I am done, we can retrieve the object from the bottom."

"I don't know if I can do this . . ." Sirius protested.

"You must," Snape told him firmly. "Surely you can conjure a few ill feelings towards me? Surely you are not so sympathetic as to pass up an opportunity to torture me?"

"I'll do it," Sirius snapped. "This is on your own head, Snape."

"So be it," Snape told him.

Harry watched, his wand drawn and ready, as Sirius scooped up the potion and offered it to Snape. Snape took the shell full of liquid, and quaffed it without expression. "Again," he said firmly.

Sirius dipped out another scoop of the potion, and this time held it to Snape's lips. Snape drank it down, sitting down on a rock in response. He was silent in response, focusing on his occlumency shields. He could feel it burn, but it was not as bad as any of the numerous curses he had endured from the Dark Lord.

"Here's another one, Snape," Sirius said to him, bringing the dipper up to his lips again. Snape closed his eyes as the potion went down his throat, and he employed every shield he had not to beg it to stop. This was going to be difficult. He felt the dipper come to his lips again, and he forced himself to drink.

"How are you doing, professor?" he heard Harry ask softly.

Snape couldn't answer, but he gestured for Sirius to do another one. He gagged on the potion, and forced himself to swallow it.

"I'd like a break . . ." he said softly, and then bit back the comment. Shaking himself, he shook himself. "Another."

Sirius nodded, setting his face in determination. He put another scoop to Snape's mouth, and Snape forced himself to drink. The burning became almost unbearable, and he found himself lusting for a drink of water as if his life depended on it. And then visions starting dancing at his periphery – visions of a broken and bleeding Harry Potter. Hermione holding his broken body and crying. Dumbledore succumbing to the curse. Ron Weasley with open, unseeing eyes as he lay on the ground . . .

"Just a few more," Sirius told him, placing the scoop to his lips again. "Almost there, big guy."

"Please," Snape found escaping from his lips against his will. "Please."

"Almost there," Sirius repeated firmly, putting the scoop to pour the liquid fire down Snape's throat once again. Snape sputtered but drank, the last walls of his occlumency beginning to crumble. He could not push the visions away any longer, he could see the visions more clearly than reality. He felt his throat tighten and he choked down a sob.

"Last one," Sirius told him, pouring the cup down.

"Water," Snape croaked, forgetting all of his admonishments. Even the thought of the inferi was fleeting – he would gladly battle the cursed things if he were allowed a drink beforehand. And now with his plans in tatters and Harry likely going to die horribly, he began to think of the inferi as a quick release from the suffering of this world.

"No," Sirius barked, blocking Snape's body.

"Harry, Ron, help him," Albus directed. "Hermione, get the locket. Now that we have it we need to get out."

"Will he be okay?" Harry asked, beginning to panic.

"Of course he will," Albus answered. "Harry, you and Ron get him on your broomsticks. Sirius, help them."

"We need to get out of here," Hermione commented, seeing the inferi begin to stir and to awaken.

"Now!" Dumbledore ordered. "Everyone away! I will come as soon as you are out!"

Harry mounted his broom with Snape seated in front of him, barely able to hold on. Sirius and Ron flew on either side of him to keep him upright, and together they took off from the ground. Hermione tucked the necklace inside her clothes and then took off herself. The group flew out of the cave, with a whoosh of licking fire whooshing up behind them.

"To the exit!" Harry yelled to the two beside him, and together they ushered the weakened potion master out of the exit of the cave. Hermione was right behind them, and they flew determinedly to the shore. They turned to watch Dumbledore fly out of the cave himself, tongues of fire licking behind him as he went. Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry landed on the damp sand and then turned towards his guardian.

"Are you okay, professor?" he asked.

"Water," Snape croaked, and Harry found himself at a loss. There was ocean water . . .

"Aguamenti," Hermione commanded, a stream of water shooting from her wand and filling a conjured glass jar.

"Are you a wizard or not?" Harry joked weakly as he took the jar from Hermione and pressed it to Snape's lips.

Snape drank deeply of the sweet, cool water and felt the flames of his innards cool and rescind. He drank the jar quickly, barely pausing to breath, and then sank back into the sand, breathing deeply. He would survive. The visions rescinded to the background of his mind.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked him his voice choking a little.

"I will be soon," Snape answered, meeting his eye and trying to calm him.

"That was bloody brilliant," Ron commented. "That must have been a horrid potion to affect you like that."

"Were we successful?" he asked as his breathing normalized, ignoring the compliment by the young Weasley.

"We were," Albus replied, landing in the sand. "I believe Miss Granger has the sought artifact."

"Right here," she pulled out the locket.

"Is that the horcrux?" Harry asked, puzzled. "It feels different than the diary did."

"We will have a closer look at home," Albus nodded. "Severus, are you at all recovered yet?"

"I am recovering swiftly," Snape answered, coughing. "I should be able to apparate in a few minutes."

"Good, my boy, good," he answered, patting his shoulder paternally.

"I didn't know you could do unassisted flight," Snape told him, coughing a bit. "New trick?"

"You do not know all my tricks, my boy," Dumbledore's eyes sparkled. "Though you know more than most. Let's get you home."


	24. Chapter 24 - Listening to Elves

_AN: Thank you to_ _t42n24t2_ _for the phrase "understanding of mutual dislike" which I used in this chapter._ _J_ _I am going on vacation, so there probably won't be another update for at least a week, probably a few days longer._

* * *

"It's a fake!" Harry exclaimed as they opened the locket when they got back to the safe-house.

"But a very interesting one," Snape conceded, looking at the note that fell out. "Apparently someone beat us to the prize. I wonder who RAB is?"

"RAB?" Sirius asked, paling. "Let me see that."

Sirius took the note with fingers that were shaking, and gulped when he saw it. "That's my brother, Regulus," Sirius whispered. "It's his handwriting."

"Regulus?" Dumbledore blinked. "Wasn't he a Deatheater?"

"He was," Sirius agreed, sounding shaken. "But from the tone of this note he had decided to switch sides. I wonder if that's what cost him his life."

"How did he die?" Ron asked, curious.

"Nobody really knows," Sirius admitted. "Or if they do, nobody has told me. I wasn't exactly in favor with my family when it happened. But from what I heard, he just never came back. A locator spell came back saying he was deceased. I always thought that he had gotten partially into the deatheaters, and then panicked and tried to get out. You can't exactly resign from Voldemort, I always assumed he killed him."

"Couldn't they find the body?" Hermione asked.

"Locator spells work on finding a wizard's magical signature," Dumbledore explained. "When life is extinguished, so is that signature. It can be very difficult to find a body at that point, it would be like trying to find a random piece of meat. But surely they tried accio without success."

"If he died within the cave that would have prevented detection," Snape surmised. "But how could he have drank the potion and switched the lockets first? And then what happened to the locket?"

"There's only one person alive now that can help us," Dumbledore said, looking at Sirius. "I believe we need to visit Number 12, Grimmauld Place."

"My mother's portrait isn't exactly cooperative . . ." Sirius dissembled.

"Not your mother, idiot," Snape snapped, grasping what Dumbledore was saying. "He's talking about Kreacher."

"Kreacher?" Sirius asked, his face blank.

"There has always been talk about your brother amongst the house elves," Dumbledore explained. "He is seen in quite a favorable light. I wonder why that is?"

"We can ask Dobby," Harry volunteered. "He's always telling me things."

"Call Dobby first," Dumbledore agreed. "Then we will visit Grimmauld Place."

"Dobby?" Harry called hopefully into the air.

"Master Harry, sir!" Dobby answered happily. "Can Dobby help the master?"

"You can," Harry smiled at his odd friend. "We have a question that we hope you can help us with."

"Great wizards want Dobby's help?" the little elf squealed, holding his ears in delight.

"Yes, we need your help, Dobby," Dumbledore nodded. "We are trying to find out what happened to Regulus Black. Do you know anything about it?"

"You're talking about The Great Master Regulus Black?" Dobby asked with a hushed voice. "I do not know more than any other house elf. We does not tell this story to Wizards."

"Can you tell us if we promise to keep it secret?" Harry asked him. "It is important that we know."

"Just tell us what you can," Dumbledore told him kindly. "It would be a great help. Why is he 'The Great Master?'"

"You must keep it as secret as house elves," Dobby warned them with a stern look on his face.

"You have our wizard's oaths," Snape answered with a solemn nod.

"It would be a big help," Harry urged him.

"He is The Great Master because he was a wizard that gave up his life to save his house elf," Dobby answered reverently, deciding to tell. "He be the only one to do such a thing."

"Tell me the story," Harry urged him. "Please?"

"For yous, I will, Master Harry," Dobby smiled happily at him. "Is a great legend. The Great Master served another wizard, one who was dark and evil because his families expects it. He came from a greats and mighty family, purebloods back to Merlin. But then one day the Dark One asks for house elf, for The Great Master's elf. The Great Masters and his elf help eagerly, wanting to please. But the Dark Lord almost kill the elf testing and trying to protect a precious, he only escapeds because the Dark One not know our magics. The Great Master finds his elf, cures him, and together they steal the precious for revenge. The Great Master stops serving the Dark One because he hurts his elf. But to steal precious The Great Master had to take a potion, and he tooks it instead of making elf do it. He died saving his elf."

"Do you know where he died?" Harry asked quietly.

"Don't," Dobby answered, unhappy not to be able to answer.

"Do you know where the precious is now?" Dumbledore asked softly.

"Do not knows," Dobby replied, thoughtfully. "But if I were the elf, I would keeps it."

"You have been very helpful," Dumbledore told the small elf. "And have been a great friend to Harry in helping us. We just have one more question. Who was the elf that The Great Master saved?"

"Why, Kreacher of course," Dobby answered incredulously. "He is the elf for Blacks."

"Thank you, Dobby," Harry told him. "You may have just saved us."

"Welcome, Master Harry sir," Dobby told him solemnly but with a happy wriggle, and with a snap he was gone.

"That Kreacher has some overdue explanations," Sirius growled after Dobby left.

"Gentle, gentle," Dumbledore told him. "We will get far more answers with kindness."

"He can't lie to me and he must answer direct questions," Sirius insisted. "And he might even do it better after a beating."

"Sirius Black!" Hermione hissed at him in shock. "You wouldn't!"

"Of course he wouldn't," Snape said, his eyes narrowing. "Because he knows that though an elf is compelled to tell the truth, there are a million ways to dodge that particular compulsion. In order to find all the information Kreacher must want to do it."

"Perhaps to help Regulus," Dumbledore nodded. "Sirius, I have told you repeatedly that your abuse of Kreacher would come back to haunt you. Well, it ends today. We need you to be kind to Kreacher if we are to get anything out of him."

"He hates me," Sirius grumbled. "He thinks I disappointed my mother so much that it shortened her life, and he wants nothing more than to worship her. How is me being kind to him going to change that?"

"You could try being kind to the poor wretch," Hermione snapped at him.

"It won't work," Snape concluded, studying Sirius' face carefully. "No, if we are going to get the full information that we need, it can't be Sirius."

"Who else could it be?" Sirius asked him. "I don't disagree, but I don't see an alternative."

"Is Harry still your heir?" Snape asked with sudden inspiration.

"I guess so," Sirius acknowledged. "He is my Godson, you know."

"I do know," Snape nodded. "That makes him your heir in the absence of any further issue from you. That makes him officially part of the Black family."

"Enough to command Kreacher?" Sirius asked, suddenly hopeful.

"We can only hope," Snape answered. "He is far more likely to get somewhere with that elf than you are. See how Dobby worships him?"

"Dobby isn't half mad worshipping the portrait of a dead woman," Sirius grumbled.

"All the more reason to be kind to the poor thing," Hermione answered firmly.

"How do you suggest getting him to talk then?" Harry asked. "Offering to set him free?"

"No, no, you will scare him half to death if you do that," Snape told him. "Most house elves don't want freedom, and at his age he would only be turned out to die. No, it has to be something he wants."

"If it is the horcrux, then he would not be able to destroy it," Dumbledore observed. "We can offer to destroy it."

"This fake locket belonged to my mother," Sirius observed. "Kreacher is always hiding away things he sees as precious Black family heirlooms. Offer him this one too, and tell him I promise not to throw it away."

"That sounds like a plan, then," Harry nodded. "But he calls me a blood traitor every time he sees me, are you sure this will work?"

"It's our best shot," Snape nodded. "If it doesn't work we can have Sirius adopt Mr. Weasley and let him try."

"Hey, wait a minute . . ." Ron protested.

"It's a joke, Ron," Harry smiled. "Let's find Kreacher."

. . .

They found Kreacher in his cupboard as always, grumbling and nearly incoherent.

"What do the blood traitors want now?" he grumbled as if they couldn't hear them. "They have the mudblood here too, next they will order tea. I shall salt it, I shall."

"Kreacher," Harry began. "Can you come out of the cupboard?"

"Filthy blood traitor thinks he can ask me stupid questions," Kreacher grumbled, ignoring him. "Oh for the days of my Mistress! Filthy curs would be flogged and spitted!"

"You need to give an order, Harry," Snape told him. "See if he obeys."

"Come out of the cupboard, Kreacher," Harry told him, but in a gentle voice. "I would like to talk to you."

"Filthy traitor," Kreacher answered, but came out of the cupboard.

"Stop insulting me and my friends," Harry told him again, and Kreacher flinched in an effort to disobey. He kept grumbling, but the grumbling was no longer full of pejoratives.

"I need your help," Harry told the small elf, hoping it would work on Kreacher as it did on Dobby. "I am part of the Black Family."

"Not by blood," Kreacher spat, wrestling hard against the command not to insult.

Harry saw it, and found himself feeling for the tiny elf that lived in the cupboard and was insulted all the time. He was the wizard version of Kreacher growing up.

"You can insult is if you want to," Harry told him. "I rescind the command not to do so."

This took Kreacher by surprise, and he stopped grumbling long enough to look up at the young wizard. "What?" he asked.

"If you want to insult me it's okay," Harry assured him. "I won't be mad. I just need your help to help a friend of mine."

"Which friend?" he asked, his eyes narrow. "Your mudblood friend?"

"Regulus Black," Harry answered. "See, I have his note here."

"Where did you get this note?" Kreacher asked, suddenly very intent on Harry's face.

"We were trying to finish what he started," Harry told him. "I know how much Regulus meant to you, and how he saved you."

"How do you know such things?"

"I know," Harry told him. "I also know he gave you a precious, probably to destroy. Do you still have it?"

"If I do have it, what would you do with it?" Kreacher asked, breathless.

"Destroy it," Harry told him. "You can watch if you want to."

"How?" Kreacher asked, whispering.

"Basilisk venom or fiendfire," Harry answered easily, suddenly grateful for the essay he had to write for Snape. "I have Dumbledore here with me, and the Potions Master Snape from Hogwarts. I've already destroyed something very much like it, so surely with all of us the locket won't be a big problem."

"You can?" Kreacher looked hopeful.

"Yes, and do you know what else?" Harry asked him. "I wanted to give this locket that Regulus used to switch the lockets to you so that you would have something of your Mistress to keep all to yourself."

"It would be mine?" he asked, with a glare at Sirius.

"I would not touch it," Sirius answered, trying hard to level his voice. "I swear."

"And we can finally end what Regulus started," Harry told him softly. "Please, Kreacher, we need you to help Regulus."

"Let me see the necklace," Kreacher demanded, crossing his arms and glaring at Harry.

Harry, tempted to force Kreacher to get the locket first, decided an act of good faith would be better. He pulled the necklace out of his pocket and placed it in Kreacher's outstretched hand.

"It was Mistress' locket," he breathed, looking at the locket as if it were a holy thing. "I remember hers wearing it."

"I will tell you the truth," Harry told Kreacher. "And that locket is yours now."

"You will destroy the dark locket?" Kreacher asked Harry. "Wizard's oath?"

"I swear on my wand and my magic that I will do everything I can to destroy the dark locket," Harry promised as a tingle and the warmth from his oath crept over his body.

"I have it," Kreacher admitted, crawling back into his cupboard. He returned with a non-descript locket roughly the same size as the one Harry had just given Kreacher.

"Salazar Slytherin's locket," Dumbledore confirmed, looking over Harry's shoulder. "Thank you, Kreacher. You have done us a great service."

"I can feel it," Harry shivered in revulsion as he held the locket. "It . . . it's like it can speak to me. It's evil, Headmaster."

"Yes it is," Dumbledore confirmed. "I wonder if harboring it and being unable to destroy it is part of what has driven Kreacher mad all these years."

"The white nasties took him," Kreacher told them sadly, looking at the locket and seeming as if his heart would break. "Master Regulus told me to take the locket back and destroy it. He told me leave right now. I had to go, he told me to go. I couldn't stop even to save master from those white nasties. I saw them start to pull him under as I left."

"I'm sorry, Kreacher," Harry told him, tempted to put his hand on the creature's shoulder but then resisted. "But you did what he wanted. You were a good elf."

"I was a wicked elf," Kreacher sniffed, his eyes welling. "If I had died like Dark Lord said to, Master would still be alive. And when we went back, I told him I could take the potion but he said he was to do it. I should have, I lived after doing it for Dark Lord. I killed my good master."

"You did not," Harry told him firmly. "You did nothing but obey your master, as you were supposed to do. The Dark Lord killed your master, not you. He has killed many people. My friends and I are trying to kill him."

"Kill him?"

"Yes," Harry told him. "We are looking for other things like this locket that he put part of himself into. When we can destroy all of them, then we can destroy him."

"You kill the wizard who murder master?" Kreacher asked with hope. "I help you."

"That would be brilliant," Harry told him, touching him on the shoulder gently. "Thank you, Kreacher. But you can't let anybody know what we are trying to do."

"Of course," he answered. "We will kill that filthy Dark Lord."

"Yes, we will," Harry answered. "Now let's kill a part of him."

. . .

In the end, it was decided that Harry's basilisk infused, goblin-made dagger should be tested on the Horcrux, and if that should prove unsuccessful then fiendfire would be used. Even a wizard as great as Dumbledore hesitated to use fiendfire, and the dagger needed to be tested.

"It should be Sirius," Harry told Snape as they gathered around to destroy the locket. "This was his brother's final wish."

"You need the practice," Snape snapped back.

"Out of the lot of us, I'm the only one who has destroyed a Horcrux without gaining a deadly curse," Harry shot back. "I'm actually the expert here."

"The boy has a point, Severus . . ." Dumbledore began, smirking.

"Perhaps," Snape answered, a small smirk playing on his lips. "But he's just so dreadfully cheeky about it."

"Please, sir," Harry tried again, trying to be as respectful as possible. "Please, I think Sirius should do it to honor is brother."

"My brother was a prat," Sirius answered with a scowl. "He was my parents' golden boy, he could do no wrong. And he truly believed in the ideals Voldy espoused, he just lost his stomach at the actual methods."

"And he was your little brother," Ron told him levelly. "We both know what that means."

"I know," Sirius sighed. "Professor Snape, with your permission, I would like to fulfill the task over which my brother actually became noble and chose to die."

"But I thought we had an understanding of mutual dislike between us," Snape told him levelly. "It's why I trusted you with giving me the potion."

"Well, if the track record is anything to go on, this thing could try and kill me," Sirius reasoned. Better me than someone valuable."

"I think we can agree on that," Snape nodded, a little touched by how much authority the group was ceding to him. He had thought Dumbledore was a more rational choice to be the natural leader.

"Here's the dagger," Harry handed it to him by the hilt. "Careful, it's wicked sharp."

"So do I just stab the thing?" Sirius asked, looking doubtfully at the locket that Dumbledore had laid out on a slab of obsidian. "It doesn't look very, I don't know, stab-able."

"Give it a try," Snape told him. "The dagger is goblin made, it should be able to break the stone."

"The Diary fought back a bit," Harry told him. "So be careful. And the ring cursed Dumbledore."

"That was because I tried it on," Dumbledore explained. "Killing it didn't hurt me more than a blast of power."

"Here goes," Sirius took a deep breath, and pulling the knife up high and then plunging it down right on the locket.

Harry saw a flash of light, and then felt himself be thrown back against the wall, and then the world became black.


	25. Chapter 25 - Hermione Daring

_AN: I'm back from my vacation! It's good to be home. Enjoy!_

* * *

Harry woke to an argument happening, and it sounded as if it was between Hermione and Snape of all people.

"Is it because I'm a girl?" Hermione asked with disgust. "Is this some misguided attempt at chivalry?"

"Obviously you being a girl is a factor," Snape drawled. "But the fact that you are an under-aged and inexperienced witch is really more to the point."

"You know I can do this," she spat back at him. "You're just being sexist and ageist."

"I am being realistic," he snapped. "You may think that you know everything now, young lady, but let me assure you that you do not. Polyjuice should work just fine . . ."

"And if it doesn't?" she argued. "Bellatrix will be alerted, and will strengthen the wards. No, Dobby says that the wards allow in human females, and I am the only one currently on this team."

"You are an obstinate, headstrong girl . . ." Snape growled at her.

"I am," Hermione agreed. "And we both know that I am the best chance of this mission working."

"Harry will kill me if something happens to you . . ."

"Then perhaps we should do it before he wakes up!" Hermione snapped. "I am not some child to be coddled or girl to put up on a pedestal! I am a competent witch in my own right, and I will be damned if these outdated chivalrous attitudes will keep me away from doing everything I can to bring down the Dark Lord."

"I see you are determined," Snape admitted through gritted teeth. "And though I am loathe to admit it, you are right. You are our best chance of success."

"Of course I am."

"What is Hermione doing now?" Harry asked sleepily, his tongue feeling heavy and thick.

"Harry!" Snape gasped, then raced to his side. "Are you alright? What hurts?"

"I'm a bit sore all over," Harry admitted. "Though I think I have a pretty good bang on the back of my head."

"Foolish boy," Snape chided him, looking in his eyes and taking his pulse. "You've been unconscious for two days."

"What knocked me out?" he asked.

"From as near as we can gather, something of a combination of Sirius killing the Horcrux instead of you as you had sworn to do, and the power of the Horcrux knocking you into a wall," Snape answered crisply.

"But I saw it destroyed!" Harry protested. "Surely that fulfilled my oath."

"It did at least partially or you would be much worse off," Snape agreed. "But really I think you've just got a knock on the head, no more serious than what you get playing Quidditch."

"I miss Quidditch," Harry sighed as he submitted to the rest of Snape's examination. When the man was finally satisfied, Harry sat back and let his eyes fall on Hermione.

"So what's Hermione yelling at you about then?" Harry asked.

"She wants to do a dangerous mission by herself," Snape explained. "Between Kreacher and Dobby, we have figured out that one of the Horcruxes is likely in the Lestrange vault at Gringotts. The only way we can get in is by Polyjuice, so we need someone to enter her quarters and steal a hair to add to the potion. But Dobby says that her quarters are warded against all men, only house elves and women may enter. I was going to make an attempt while polyjuiced . . ."

"You should let Hermione do it," Harry interrupted him.

"Why do you say that?" Snape asked, frowning. Clearly he was on the losing side of things.

"Because she's an incredibly talented witch," Harry answered. "And her arguments are correct."

"Hmph," Snape answered, and they both knew that was a sound of assent.

"You will wear a portkey," he told her. "Hopefully there won't be wards against using one to get out. Just get a hair off her brush or pillow or something and get right back."

"I promise I will," Hermione answered.

"She's to careful elsewhere to get a hair," Snape explained. "She has wards against it. This really is the only way."

"Hermione will be fine," Harry assured him, realizing that Snape was feeling a good deal of guilt about using a young wizard in this way. "She really is brilliant."

"Thanks, Harry," she told him with satisfaction.

"Five minutes, Miss Granger," he told her. "You have five minutes to get something and get back or I will attempt to crash the wards, first polyjuiced and then with force."

"Okay," she answered. "That sounds good."

"Cruciatus is her favorite curse," Snape told her. "She rarely goes for the kill when she can go for the pain."

"I will keep that in mind," she nodded.

"The only way to block an unforgivable is to dodge or present another target," Snape told her. "I like Serpensortia."

Hermione nodded again. Snape didn't like this, but he realized that Harry was right. Maybe it was a bit of misguided chivalry that caused him not to want to risk the girl, he wouldn't have as much trouble sending Ron. Maybe there was something about Hermione that reminded him of Lily, but he found it hard to send her. But he couldn't let his softer feelings get in the way of making the best decision for the mission.

"Let's get you ready, then," Snape told her. "Dobby doesn't have access to her quarters so we don't know if she's there or not. She usually isn't during the day, but go in with your wand drawn."

"I will," Hermione agreed.

"Would the invisibility cloak help?" Harry asked.

"Not really," Snape shook his head. "If Bella is in the room she will know Hermione is there, invisibility cloak or no, and it could hinder Hermione. She is better with just her wand."

"What does she do if Bella is there?"

"Return as quickly as possible," Snape answered. "Harry, are you feeling good enough to sit up while we set this up?"

"I am," he answered. "Really, I feel fine."

"Alright, call Dobby then."

Dobby, once calmed down with the hysterics he felt for Harry feeling better, was able to settle down.

"You must give Hermione a clear picture of where to apparate," Snape instructed. "Picture it clearly in your mind, and I will assist in helping her picture it from your mind."

"I don't know legitimacy, sir," Hermione told him. "How am I supposed to do this?"

"I will attempt to be a bridge," Snape explained. "I will take it from Dobby and project it into your mind. It is very difficult to take information from a house elf that they don't offer up willingly, so Dobby has to concentrate."

"I will concentrate, headmaster sir," Dobby told him with the air of being honored to help such important wizards.

"Gently, Dobby," Dumbledore coached. "You don't have to scream it at him, just picture it in your mind."

"I have it," Snape told them. "Hermione, open your mind now."

"I see it!" Hermione responded excitedly. "I can see the room!"

"Good," Snape told her. "Now concentrate on it, and apparate there. Five minutes, Miss Granger, and I'm coming after you."

"It really should be me," Dumbledore ventured. "We can't risk your cover."

"Nor can we risk yours," Snape replied firmly. "No, for this one it's me. Surely I can defeat Bella just fine should it be necessary."

Hermione drew her wand, and with her eyes closed in concentration, she was gone with a crack.

"Then we just wait I guess?" Ron asked, and Harry noticed him in the room for the first time. He was surprised he didn't express more opinion about what Hermione would do.

"I'm taking polyjuice at the three minute mark," Snape told them. "Just so I can be ready."

"Are you going to transform as Hermione?" Ron asked him.

"No, someone different," Snape smirked. "Someone equally terrifying, let me assure you."

The minutes counted down, and Harry felt as if he could barely breathe. He couldn't believe how calm the adults seemed when it felt like he should be screaming and doing _something_. But they sat, the clock ticking away the moments.

"Right, it's time for polyjuice," Snape announced, breaking the silence.

Taking a small vial from his pocket, he downed the whole thing, grimacing a bit at the flavor. _Even a potions master disliked the taste of that_ , Harry smirked. Snape shrank, and his hair curled up around his head. With a quick flick of his wand to transform his robes, Harry gaped as he saw the perfectly appointed form of Delores Umbridge.

"Why her?" Harry exploded with laughter.

"No time now," Snape firmly told him. "I need to concentrate on where I am to apparate."

Suddenly, though, with a crack, Hermione was suddenly back. Harry could smell the spellfire on her, and from her frightened look he could tell that things had not gone as planned.

"Are you hurt?" Ron demanded, rushing to catch her before she fell.

"I'm, I'm not hurt, not really," Hermione staggered. "I had, well, I had a bit of the cruciatus."

Nodding, the form of Delores Umbridge went over to the potions store and removed a blue bottle.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione shrieked, stumbling away from her.

"It is I, Professor Snape," the pink toad told her in the Potions Master's voice. "This will help with the after affects of the Cruciatus."

"Thank you," she breathed, accepting the potion and quaffing it. Slowly, her muscles quit shaking and she rested against Ron.

"What happened?" Harry asked her softly. "Did she come back?"

"She did," Hermione nodded. "I had just gotten her hair out of her brush, and I heard her come. Her spell caught me before I was able to disapparate."

"How did you escape?" Dumbledore pressed.

"She cast the Cruciatus," Hermione trembled. "It hurt so much, I couldn't think. But I still had my wand, and I cast the only spell that came to mind."

"What spell was that?" Ron asked her.

"Harry's spell," Hermione answered. "Expelliarmus."

"Did it work?" Harry asked, incredulous.

"It did," she answered, pulling a dark, strangely bent wand out from under her robe. "I just disarmed Bellatrix Lestrange."


	26. Chapter 26 - Revealing

Snape had to admit that he had underestimated the three young wizards now ensconced in the safehouse he created. He had thought of them as students; as handy people to have along but not as full partners. Hermione had proven him near-sighted and patronizing, she had handled herself very well. He was going to have to modify how he thought of them. Through her excited explanation and Snape's careful questions, Snape was able to figure out the gist of what happened.

"When she walked through the door I could barely breathe!" Hermione exclaimed. "I was so startled! And she saw me, and cast the Cruciatus before I could even blink. Oh my goodness, that was so awful. And like I said, I cast the only thing that came to mind."

"She must have been surprised to have you cast at all," Snape told her firmly, his solemn expression incongruous on the form of Umbridge. "Most people aren't able to while under that particular curse."

"I think it was automatic," Hermione confessed. "It wasn't, you know, well thought out. I was almost as surprised as she was when her wand went flying."

"But you thought to grab the wand," Dumbledore smiled warmly. "That shows excellent foresight."

"It was close to me," Hermione confessed. "I just grabbed it and took the port key. It's still kind of a blur to me."

"Is the potion helping?" Snape asked.

"Yes, ma – er – sir," Hermione answered with a blush. "Professor, it is very difficult to see you as that woman."

"I suppose so," he nodded, tapping his clothes and having them return to robes too long for Umbridge. "It is a potent brew, it might be a while before I transform back."

"I'm finding myself wanting to straighten my clothes and walk properly," Ron joked. "Do ya think you could go to the ministry like that and, you know, cause problems?"

"Possibly," Snape smirked. "But she is supposed to be in prison right now. It won't be for much longer, however, as more and more death eaters are getting out."

"She's not really a death eater," Harry considered. "I mean, I doubt she has the tattoo and runs around like Lucius Malfoy in the cape and mask and stuff. But she's certainly evil."

"That she is," Snape nodded. "And actually agrees on a lot of the Dark Lord's politics."

"Oh, and I saw something too," Hermione volunteered. "I meant to tell you. I saw some papers on her desk just a few minutes before she realized I was there. I didn't understand a lot of what I saw, but I saw two names: Griphook and Ollivander."

"That's very curious," Dumbledore contemplated.

"Griphook is a Goblin that works at Gringotts," Harry told them. "He's the one that first showed me my vault."

"Why would Bella have any dealings with a Goblin underling?" Snape wondered, stroking Umbridge's chin thoughtfully.

"Ollivander is the one that concerns me," Dumbledore told them. "It means he is onto the wand."

"The wand?" Harry asked blankly.

"He is looking for a wand that will beat you," Snape explained. "Since it has not gone well for him when he has confronted you. Your wands are brothers, and his seems unable to best yours."

"So he wants Ollivander to fit him for a new wand?" Ron asked, incredulous.

"No, he's inquiring into wandlore," Dumbledore answered. "He's trying to find a wand powerful enough to beat you. I know of only one in existence that can do such a thing."

"I'm not even of age," Harry answered, confused. "Shouldn't I be easy to beat? Even with a normal wand?"

"Apparently not," Snape answered, nodding.

"Are you children familiar with the tale of the three brothers from the _Tales of Beadle the Bard?_ " Dumbledore asked.

"Of course," Ron asked. "Everyone's heard that one."

When Hermione and Harry looked at him blankly, however, he coughed a bit. "Well, it's like this," he told them. "There was this super dangerous river that claimed a lot of people, and three brothers built a bridge over the river, and so death felt cheated. Death offered to give each of them a prize for their cleverness, and they each got a magic item. One was a rock to see dead people, and the man used it to see his dead girlfriend, and it made him so sad that he killed himself. One was the elder wand, the most powerful wand ever, and that brother was killed by someone sneaking in at night and killing him for it. And the third was an invisibility cloak so good that it fooled even death itself. That brother lived a full life, and handed the cloak down to his son."

"But surely that's just a story," Sirius chimed in. "Nobody has seen the elder wand for centuries."

"That is not true, sadly," Dumbledore told them.

"What do you mean?" Snape asked, a shrewd look at the headmaster.

"I mean that eventually he will be looking in my grave for the elder wand."

"Your grave?" Snape paled. Surely not . . .

"I have been the wielder of the Elder wand for most of my adult life," Dumbledore told them. "That was a secret I had hoped to take to my grave. If nobody could best me for it, then perhaps the curse would die with it as well."

"Curse?" Harry asked.

"Yes, curse," Dumbledore answered. "Every wizard who has wielded the wand has been killed for someone else to possess it. The wand won't answer to a new owner unless the old owner has been bested in a duel for it. This is the same reason why Bella's wand will now most likely answer to Hermione."

"You kept this secret all this time?" Snape asked, hushed. The elder wand certainly was a whole new twist on things.

"I did and I didn't," Dumbledore answered. "Everyone always knew I was a powerful wizard and had never been bested. I am the only one that Tom Riddle fears, and the only wizard alive who has bested a dark lord previously. They just don't know why."

"The secret to your power," Snape nodded. He felt as if he should have known.

"The elder wand?" Sirius repeated, as if he couldn't believe. "Like, THE elder wand?"

"Yes," Dumbledore answered softly. "I realize it's a bit of a shock."

"Undoubtedly," Snape said, though he had to admit to the shock himself. But he was very good at thinking on his feet. "What advantage does the Elder wand give us?"

"Well, it is more powerful than any other wand," Dumbledore told them. "I have secretly tested it somewhat, but I really couldn't test it in a duel without alerting another wizard as to what I had."

"It seems like there's someone you could have trusted," Snape answered, his eyes flashing in his toad-like face.

"It wasn't a matter of trust, but of protection," Dumbledore assured him. "Certainly someone like you, Severus, or Minerva could have been trusted implicitly. But I did not want to burden you with the knowledge."

"Well, we are now all burdened," Snape answered sardonically. "What would you like us to do with that knowledge?"

"Well, I believe for one thing someone needs to disarm me," Dumbledore announced. "My vote is Harry."

"If this wand was such a curse, you want to burden Harry with it?" Snape snapped at him.

"I believe he could handle it well," Dumbledore told them. "But we have time to consider the prospect."

"Yes, consider," Snape answered. "I feel like some of this 'consideration' should be done with just you and me. But for now, what would we like to discuss about Griphook? Surely a Gringott's Goblin being a matter of correspondence is a cause for concern."

"They probably have him," Sirius told them. "He could be one of the Goblins that have been defecting since the ministry has been interfering more at Gringotts. Perhaps they're trying to get something out of him."

"What could a lackey Goblin have what they want?" Snape wondered aloud.

"Perhaps Dobby could help," Harry suggested.

"Perhaps . . ." Snape started, and then stopped at the sudden appearance of the tiny elf.

"Does Master Harry need Dobby's help?" he asked brightly.

"We should be wary of giving too much information in a vessel not meant to contain it properly," Snape told Harry, and the boy nodded in response.

"We were wondering about Goblins," Harry said. "Do you know much about them?"

"They likes elves," Dobby answered. "But not in slavery. Theys run the banks, and are powerful, but don't have wands."

"Yes, but could you apparate one?" Harry asked. "We wondered about a Goblin named Griphook . . ."

"Harry Potter needs Griphook!" Dobby squealed in delight. "I knows him! I gets him!"

"Dobby, wait . . ." Harry called after, but the elf had already disappeared from sight.

"Well, that could have gone better," Snape growled.

"Maybe he will be helpful," Hermione told them. "I mean, maybe Griphook will be the key to figuring out how to get inside Gringotts."

"We have Bella's hair and her wand," Snape said. "It should work; we shall plan the next time I'm free. I've brought some polyjuice we can use, it's in my room."

"The school is definitely taking more of your time," Dumbledore observed. "Are things at Hogwarts as bad as I fear?"

"You would hardly recognize the place," Snape admitted, rubbing his face in a tired way. "I have Draco trying to protect the Slytherins and Longbottom assisting with the others, but it is a truly horrid place. I am am the king of the chaos."

"How bad?" Harry asked softly.

"There have been a few deaths," Snape admitted. "Voldemort is fully in control. I have two deputies, the Carrow siblings, and they are what you might call 'true believers.' They would have been criminals even without the Dark Lord, and he's given them power and false ideals and then set them upon a vulnerable population."

"Deaths?" Ron paled.

"Voldemort uses students as leverage over their parents," Snape explained. "He has set a few examples to keep others in line. If parents don't do what they want their children are tortured, or even killed. I do my best to protect students, but ultimately I don't have much real power."

"What is Draco doing?" Harry asked, grimacing.

"He's head prefect," Snape explained. "He makes a big show of rounding up students while really giving them a chance to escape. He is a natural at subterfuge, he and I are the only ones that knows what he's really doing. Neville is setting up the room of requirement as a refuge and squirrelling away the most vulnerable students. We're all fooling the Carrows and Voldemort as much as possible."

"That sounds terrible," Harry admitted.

"I have had to start caning students," Snape told them while looking at his hands, and they felt the heaviness that implied, though only Harry and Dumbledore knew the extent of the distress this would cause. "It's brutal, but better than the cruciatus."

"I'm sorry," Harry nodded.

"It can't be helped," Snape shook himself. "And it is far from the worst thing I've had to do as a spy. I must appear brutal and unfair to remain in power."

"And you must remain in power to protect the students," Hermione assured him. "The cane is brutal, but it's not going to, you know, cause permanent harm."

"I wonder what your opinion would be if you were subject to it," Snape growled, but without passion. Everyone could see how much it bothered him. "Would that Minerva would be headmistress by September."

Everyone nodded, agreeing, and beginning to wonder how much this war was going to cost each of them. Harry felt a lump in his throat when he saw how much it affected his guardian. They watched as Snape slowly stretched and transformed back to the solemn-faced potions master, and they all felt relief. As snarky and beak-nosed as he was in this form, he was ultimately far less scary than that toad in pink tweed. Ron shuddered at the memory of her.

"I must go back," Snape told them reluctantly. "I have duties to attend to."

"We'll attend to our duties here," Harry told him solemnly.

Snape turned and met Harry's eyes fully. "Don't do anything dangerous without me," he told them in a voice that sounded neutral, but Harry could feel the sternness behind his words.

"We won't," Harry promised him, not knowing yet what a lie that really was going to be.


	27. Chapter 27 - Headmaster Reckoning

Snape laid the paddle down on the desk in front of the three miscreants and saw their faces pale. Even Harry, who should have had no doubt that this was coming, started squirming uncomfortably. He hadn't said a word since he entered the study, and the three stood shoulder-to-shoulder in front of his desk, for all the world like naughty students brought to their headmaster for discipline. Which, in an awkward way, he supposed that they were. He had made sure their wounds were tended and their stomach filled with a decent dinner before their chastisement, but now was the hour of reckoning.

Looking at their faces, Snape thought of how he had left the other two adults in the house. When Dumbledore had contacted him that the children had gone, probably to Gringotts with Griphook. Dobby had arrived with Griphook in tow, and two hours later the three younger wizards were gone without a word. Snape had gotten to the safehouse as quickly as he was able, but as he apparated into the living room he saw the worried faces of Sirius and Dumbledore.

"We went up to get them for lunch," Sirius explained. "No note or anything."

"They've hatched a fool plan to go to Gringotts," Snape snarled, gnashing his teeth. But why would they do such a thing? Snape had not expected such a rash action.

"So do we go after them?" Sirius asked. "Could we help?"

"We're more likely to hurt at this point," Snape told them, his fingers twisting on his wand in frustration. "They are hopefully in disguise and have some sort of plan, and I think we're just going to have to trust that. They have Griphook and Bella's wand, but where did they get polyjuice?"

"Didn't you leave some here?" Dumbledore reminded him.

"Ah yes, my stores here, of course," Snape remembered, then grimaced. "Like a fool, I even told them about it. Unfortunately there's not a lot else we can do."

"Can they actually pull it off?" Sirius asked, his face sober.

"Perhaps," Snape answered, forcing himself to not think about Harry's body, broken and bleeding laid out across the steps of Gringotts by Voldemort. There was no use jumping to bad conclusions.

"They are intelligent, talented young wizards," Dumbledore assured them. "There is no reason to think they can't pull off this small . . . bank heist."

"I caught Harry drinking milk from the container yesterday," Snape growled. "And Weasley can't lie to save his life. They aren't exactly subtle."

"Then let's hope that youthful exuberance pulls them through," Dumbledore argued. "Being pessimistic isn't going to help anything. And they have been remarkably successful against bad odds."

"When I get my hands on them . . . " Snape threatened, but was never able to finish the threat because the room was suddenly full of three very flustered, wet, and agitated teenage wizards.

"Are you hurt?" Snape barked, yanking Harry up and giving him a quick, cursory inspection.

"I'm fine," Harry gasped. "Just some scrapes. We're fine. And we have the Horcrux."

"You do?" Snape responded, dumbstruck. Had the three actually pulled off their heist? He didn't know what to say.

"It was bloody awful!" Ron complained, pulling himself up. "I mean, Hermione, you were brilliant, and then how Harry doped that Goblin, well, that was great. But then the fall, and the dragon, and how Harry jumped on its back . . ."

Ron didn't see Harry motioning him to not tell the dangerous parts, nor did he see Snape's face get darker and darker as the named the most dangerous parts of the venture. "And then when that guy tried to follow us for apparition . . ."

"Are you followed?" he snapped, retrieving his wand.

"We went to four places before here," Hermione answered. "Just like you told me to do."

"Harry?" Snape asked, his eyes flashing. "You will tell me everything this minute. You will leave out no detail to spare my sensibilities or to save yourself from censure. I expect a complete and accurate telling."

"Yes, sir," Harry answered, realizing that honesty was probably going to serve him better at this point. Taking a deep breath, he started the story of what happened after Dobby had managed to kidnap Griphook for them.

Snape listened to their story with a stony face, though inside his guts twisted. Smuggling Griphook and Harry in under an invisibility cloak was bad enough, but then Harry performing a mind-altering spell on the Goblin to accept Hermione's wand and then show them to the vault, that was daring. They had gotten dumped out by an anti-theft waterfall, and then had to grapple with a chained and tortured dragon. Getting to the vault, Harry found the Horcrux nearly right away but not before Ron had touched something and it started replicating. Then Griphook had double-crossed them, taking the knife Harry had promised him for his cooperation and leaving the children in the vault. Snape felt his heart pounding thinking of the youth in the vault that they narrowly escaped. And then the finale – escaping on the back of a dragon! It was insanity!

And even worse, apparently one enterprising person – Harry wasn't sure exactly who he had been – had hitched a ride on the tail of the dragon in an effort to follow them. Snape guessed the dedication to catching Harry probably meant he was a death eater, and that was a grim discovery.

"But we lost him, professor," Hermione told him. "We jumped into a lake that the dragon had dipped close to, and then we swam to shore. The man was just behind us, though a little less sure about the water. Then we touched and we apparated. The man got my foot just as we were leaving, but I lost him on the second apparition. We did it twice more just to be sure."

"That part was well-done," he told her, but implying that much else hadn't been. "And now you are safely home."

"We know we shouldn't have left without telling you guys," Harry admitted, holding out the cup he had retrieved from the vault. "But look, we got it! And Griphook said if we wanted to do it we had to do it right then . . ."

Suddenly, in the middle of his explanation, Harry doubled over in pain. The ready arms of Severus caught the lad before he could hit the ground, but the pain in his forehead rendered him nearly senseless. Quietly, Snape conjured a cool compress and pressed it to Harry's forehead.

"The Goblins . . ." Harry gasped. "They're all . . . dead. A pile of them. Griphook is there too, he's dead. I see V – His feet walking, and the snake. They're all dead . . . He's so angry."

"You're safe," Severus told him, holding the boy's shoulders so he wouldn't fall.

"Dead because of what we did," Harry said again, his face awash with tears. "He's so angry that we took the cup."

"He knows we're hunting Horcruxes," Dumbledore nodded. "And he killed the Goblins in his anger."

"People too," Harry gasped. "He just killed everyone. I saw Lucius and Bella fleeing in time."

"They are both very good at staying alive," Snape agreed.

"My fault," Harry gasped. "I should have waited for the adults."

"He likely would have still had his temper tantrum even with us involved," Snape told him smoothly.

"You're balmy," Ron told him, more directly. "It's Snake face's fault, not yours."

Harry didn't say anything further, but knew that Harry didn't agree with his friend. Severus continued to hold him, not in a hug really but with one arm around Harry's chest and holding him facing away, with one hand holding the compress.

"Allow me," Dumbledore said, and transformed the nondescript couch into something softer and easier to place Harry on. He also performed a switching spell, seamlessly switching Harry's wet and filthy clothes to soft, dry pajamas. Snape helped him lay down, still holding the cloth.

"Its getting better," Harry told them quietly after a few minutes. "I think the blast that killed them helped drain some of the anger off. I don't feel it as much anymore."

"You will rest now," Snape told him firmly. "After I have cast a diagnostic on each of you hooligans. Then Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger will change out of their wet things and lay down on their beds until dinner. Then we will have dinner, which I expect you each to eat properly. And then we will have a discussion in the study."

"Discussion?" Harry echoed apprehensively, trying to deny what he knew that meant.

"All three of you," he said sternly.

Nobody questioned his right to give orders, and the rest of them did what Snape had commanded. The minor injuries the trio had sustained were easily patched, and even Ron had to admit that some time lying down in his bed dosed with a calming potion did wonders towards making him feel less shaky and more solid. Even the dinner helped with that, it was a warming shepherd's pie that made his stomach feel satisfied and full rather than twisting and churning. He couldn't figure out, though, why Harry was so apprehensive of a discussion after dinner. It's not like the man could give them detentions. He figured he'd get a rare scolding, possibly with some threats and insults thrown in for good measure. But what could the man really do besides verbal censure?

After the young wizards were tucked in their beds, Snape found himself in a discussion over the relative merits of punishing his ward with said ward's other godfather and former headmaster.

"Are you really going to paddle them?" Sirius asked, confused. "They actually did what we wanted them to with very little injury."

"But with enormous risk," Snape replied, without passion. "If we are to be an army, albeit a small one, part of us can't just go off and do something without the others knowing. And there is the matter of the number of Goblins and people killed at Gringotts."

"You're going to have to whack him pretty good," Dumbledore answered. "He feels very guilty."

"Will that help?" Sirius asked, still confused.

"Of course," Dumbledore answered. "A paddle may hurt in the short term, but it also communicates to Harry that he's still a child and not in charge, and is therefore not responsible for the deaths he saw."

"I would give anything for that feeling," Sirius smirked balefully. "I wish it was as easy as a paddle for me."

"Maybe we should give it a try," Snape's eyes glinted at Sirius.

"Now, now boys," Dumbledore chuckled. "The issue at hand is that trio of miscreants currently awaiting their supper."

"Let's give them their supper then," Snape agreed. "I told them we would have a discussion after dinner."

"After dinner it is, then," Dumbledore agreed. "But then we also need to talk about the wand, Severus."

"I don't see how giving the boy such a dangerous wand will help him," Snape answered. "And it seems like it will hurt him a lot. What if he's killed by someone to possess it?"

"That is a risk," Dumbledore agreed. "But I have a feeling at some point we will have no choice."

"Then let's make the Weasley brat take it," Snape sniffed. "He seems more expendable."

"What a thing to say!" Sirius exclaimed. "I'd like to hear you say that to Molly."

"She's got more than one son," Snape grumbled, but he knew they were right. He just didn't want to admit it.

. . .

"He's going to whack us," Harry hissed at Ron as they waited for Snape in the study.

"He can't," Ron answered, sounding more certain than he really was.

"He will," Harry told him. "He's got that look in his eyes. And I haven't even told him about my wand yet."

"He can't 'whack' Ron and I," Hermione hissed back. "He's not even our headmaster. I'm sure he just wants to lecture us about doing dangerous things. And I'm sure he doesn't mean to punish you either, Harry. For goodness sake we actually got the cup, and your wand was an accident."

"The lecture is going to involve a paddle," Harry answered, a trepidatious look towards the door. "You mark my words."

"That was bloody brilliant when Dumbledore cast the fiendfire to destroy the cup," Ron whistled lowly, trying to think of anything but what Snape was going to do to them.

"And it didn't knock me out either," Harry grinned. "Still hurt the scar a bit, though."

"Do you think . . ." Ron started, but then fell silent as the large, dark form of the current headmaster of Hogwarts entered the room. They all gulped a little as he lay the long wooden paddle on the desk in front of them.


	28. Chapter 28 - Allowing It

"Good evening," Snape greeted them as he sat at the desk. "I trust everybody is in good health?"

"Yes, sir," they all mumbled their replies.

"Good, then we can discuss your punishment."

"With all due respect, sir," Hermione began. "We are of age, well, almost. And what we did was well-planned and successful. I'm not sure why you think we deserve punishment."

Snape did nothing but stare at her in return until she blushed and looked down.

"I do not think any of you actually believe that," he answered succinctly. "I told you specifically to not do anything dangerous in my absence. Even if you could not have contacted me, you purposely did not tell either of the two adults in the house what your plans were. You left without word, leaving us to worry in your absence. Yes, you were successful, but this was by pure dumb luck."

"We seem to get a lot of that, sir," Harry told him, trying to get Snape to smile a little.

"What I'm afraid of is the day it runs out," Snape told him, purposely not smiling. He couldn't give in now or Harry would think this is how things would be.

"It did for those Goblins today," Harry answered, instantly sobered.

"Let me be clear," Snape told him firmly. "You are getting paddled for being disobedient and for doing dangerous things without adults knowing about it. The Goblins were not your fault."

"But we're adults!" Hermione protested.

"And what do you think the penalty would be if you were aurors and you did a stunt like this?" Snape asked harshly. "I do not think you want to pay adult penalties."

Hermione shook her head and looked down, chastened.

"If we are to be an army together, albeit a small one, you three must respect authority and you must be able to follow orders," he scolded in a low, even tone. "And for Merlin's sake you must stop this foolish endangering of your lives. You will have enough endangering without you three purposely and foolishly seeking it. One would think you were either as publicity mad as a certain former defense professor or you were bent on killing yourselves, one. If you ever do something as foolish as this again I will not hesitate to cane each of you until sitting will become a pleasant, distant memory. I would rather your backsides striped than any of you being killed foolishly because of your refusal to follow common sense."

The trio, chastened by Snape's appraisal of their behavior, each looked down with chagrin. Suddenly the reasons for what they had done seemed foolish and childish, and each of them felt guilt low and deep, twisting their stomachs.

"Do any of you have any other arguments to offer?" he asked smoothly. "Or perhaps how your actions were justified?"

They all shook their heads, and even Hermione whispered a quiet, "No, sir."

"Six of the best for each of you, sidekicks included," Snape pronounced.

"No!" Harry protested. "You don't have any authority over them really. And I was at fault, give me their punishment. That's eighteen, and I've had almost that many before."

"No you don't, mate," Ron growled. "Do you think me such a pansy that you need to take my punishment for me?"

"And if this is some misguided attempt at chivalry I'll hex you where you stand," Hermione told him. "You are not taking anything for me."

"Harry is correct," Snape observed, his gimlet eye on the easily manipulated Gryffindors. Really, they posed no challenge at all. "I technically have no authority to paddle either Miss Granger nor Mr. Weasley without their permission. I will allow Harry's compromise if you choose it." Snape knew of course that he would never give Harry his friends' consequences, but he didn't have to tell them that. If they refused his discipline, he would simply refuse to partner with them unless they did. He knew better than to partner with people who were loose canons with no sense of responsibility. At least a few good whacks with the paddle might make them think enough to keep them alive.

"How can you even say that?" Hermione asked, her eyes flashing. "As if we would allow Harry to suffer for our part in it!"

"We are as guilty as Harry," Ron insisted. "If he gets the paddle, we do too."

"Then everyone gets their own," Snape decreed. "Unless there's something else you need to say?"

Harry glanced guiltily at his compatriots and gulped slightly. "There are two things," he told his guardian evenly. "The first of which is the knife you gave me for Christmas. I had bartered it for Griphook's help with our plan, apparently Goblins don't like wizards owning the stuff they make. Anyway, I gave it to him before he betrayed us, and I thought I'd never see it again. But it came back, see, it just appeared beside me as I was resting. I mean, I'm really happy to have it back, but I'm not sure why it is back."

Snape looked at the knife and nodded. "Goblin made tools are somewhat sentient," he explained. "The most famous of which is the sword of Godric Gryffindor. But even this knife is a little bit. You had said that Griphook betrayed your bargain, correct?"

Harry nodded. "He left us to die in the vault."

"Then the knife decided it no longer legally belonged to Griphook," Snape explained, ignoring the picture in his head of Harry drowning under thousands of replicas of the Lestrange family treasures. "Upon his death, it returned itself to its rightful owner. If he hadn't betrayed you, it would have gone to his heirs."

"So my vision was really true," Harry said desolately. "I sort of hoped it was a trick somehow."

"I don't think we have any reason to believe that it wasn't true," Snape told him seriously. "What you saw was very consistent to what we know is true about the Dark Lord, and it would not be to his advantage for you to see such a thing. Now what was the other thing you needed to say?"

"My wand," he said simply, and laid his wand on the desk. It had quite obviously broken, though the core still hung on slightly. It was utterly unusable.

"That is very unfortunate," Snape breathed. He silently cursed, now Dumbledore would have leverage to make Harry take the Elder wand. And wasn't his wand one of the reasons that Voldemort couldn't kill Harry? This was the nail in the coffin, Dumbledore would get his way. "We will deal with this later. For now, your punishments. I also wanted to say that this is dangerous work that we do, and none of us can afford partners that do not think through what they are doing. This doesn't happen again, is this clear?"

"Yes, sir," they all mumbled.

Snape nodded. "Ladies first?"

Hermione nodded, looking pale but brave.

"Bend over the desk please, and stay in that position until your punishment concludes."

She complied as Ron and Harry backed away from the desk to give them room. Harry couldn't watch as Snape raised the paddle and brought it down on her jean-clad backside.

"One," he said solemnly as she jerked at the impact.

"Ow!" she protested, but didn't move.

"Two," Snape counted again as Hermione let out a hiss. He continued the paddling firmly, forcing himself not to make it easier on her because she was a girl. He particularly disliked spanking girls, but he knew in this instance it would cause harm in his relationship with the young woman if he showed her any favoritism. Her Gryffindor tendencies were honed towards justice if nothing else. The young woman in question gave a sharp cry when the sixth smack hit her vulnerable upper thighs, but then she stood up, forcing herself not to rub her bottom. She wiped the tears that had escaped, and tried to calm her breathing.

Those smacks had been decently hard, and Harry and Ron had flinched as they had been applied. Harry had to admit that he did think of Hermione as being somewhat physically weaker than him and Ron, so he found himself having to admire her bravery and how well she took her punishment. She was obviously no coward. Though he trusted Snape not to actually abuse them, it took a great deal of strength to stand there and watch him bring down that paddle with such a strong hand, especially to a friend.

"You took that well, Miss Granger," Snape told her. "And I hope to never be in the position to do such to you again. Now please go and find Dumbledore so he'll know I haven't killed you."

Hermione nodded, sniffing slightly, and left the room with a woeful look back at Harry and Ron.

"Mr. Weasley, you're next," Snape told him firmly. He had none of the hesitations he felt in spanking Hermione than he did with the red-haired Weasley boy.

Ron nodded, too nervous for words, and bent over just as Hermione had. He had been spanked before by his father, so he knew more or less what to expect. But somehow that didn't make it any easier. And that large paddle Snape had wielded so professionally on Hermione's backside had seemed far worse than the wooden spoon his family employed.

"You will learn to follow orders, Mr. Weasley," Snape told him firmly. "And not risk your life foolishly. Count aloud for me."

"One," Ron hissed as the first smack fell, as he jerked against the desk and let out a softly hissed "Merlin's balls!" This hurt much more than when his father had done this. The second smack elicited a strangled yelp, and Ron buried his face in his arm for the third blow which landed right across the part of his bottom that sat on a chair, making his count muffled. Snape decided hearing it was enough, so he didn't inflict further smacks as a consequence for not counting. Instead, he gave the last three smacks with equal strength, and Ron managed to choke out the number.

"You are done, Mr. Weasley," he told him. "You took that well, and I hope never to have to do that again."

"Me too," Ron tearfully agreed, pushing himself up from the desk and rubbing his backside.

"Please go into Dumbledore and Black and leave me to deal with my ward."

Ron looked about to argue, but then with a glance at Harry he simply nodded and muttered, "Yes sir," as he left. Harry could hear him muttering as he left, and guessed it was better for everyone concerned that he couldn't discern the words.

Snape sat back down in front of his desk and folded his hands carefully over his stomach. Piercing black eyes started at Harry, and he asked one simple question, "Why?"

Harry squirmed uncomfortably, but found it was hard to answer. He licked his lips. "Griphook said we had to go right then."

"That explains not telling me," Snape told him. "But why not the mutt or Dumbledore? You purposely hid it from them."

"It's hard to explain," Harry answered, looking down. "We didn't want them to get caught."

"Caught?"

"Both Sirius and Dumbledore would be in big trouble if they were caught out," Harry told him. "You too. We figured this was something we could do and not have to risk anybody. We're sorry we worried people."

Snape blinked, that had not been the answer he was expecting. He was ready to berate Harry and lecture him, but how was he supposed to now when the boy had such noble intentions? Snape had to remind himself that he still needed to punish the lad so he would learn respect for authority and to deal with the guilt he was feeling. Harry did not make this easier.

"You need to respect authority," Snape told him. "You will not do something so foolish again. You may not believe this, but it is just as dangerous for you to be caught out as it is for Sirius or Dumbledore. You need to stop risking your life foolishly."

"I will, sir," Harry agreed. "I'm sorry. I guess it's easier to risk my own life than to risk others."

"I know the feeling," Snape answered with a wry smile.

"I deserve more than six with the paddle," Harry told him softly. "You had probably best get the cane."

"I see," Snape answered, leaning back. "What makes you draw that conclusion?"

"All those Goblins killed," Harry said softly. "And people too, death eaters and innocents. Hermione and Ron would never have gone without me."

"This is serious indeed," Snape nodded. "Of course your crimes would add to your punishment. Did you use the imperius curse then?"

"No," Harry admitted.

"Then the threat of other bodily harm?" Snape asked in a calm voice. "Threats? Coercion? Emotional blackmail?

"No, I just told them we should do it," Harry said.

"Then you are equally responsible," Snape answered him. "Unless they were coerced, you did not exercise power over them to force them. You are all equally responsible." Snape had originally considered giving the sidekicks lesser punishments, and now he was really glad that he hadn't done it.

"But I am still more at fault," Harry answered stubbornly.

"I understand," Snape nodded. "I am seen as an overly permissive professor and I have been a complete milk-sop as a guardian."

"No, of course not . . ."

"And I have let you off with minimal consequences when you've misbehaved due to my affection for you that blinds me from your faults."

"I don't think anybody would say that," Harry answered, looking down.

"Then trust me when I say I am giving you what you deserve, and that coming from the strictest teacher at Hogwarts. You deserve six with a paddle because you made a childish mistake. The mistake was a big one, on par with stealing pickled Murtlap. And your backside will pay for your mistake, just as surely as your friends did. And then that will be the end of it."

"But those Goblins . . ." Harry argued, and then stopped. He felt tears prickle his eyes.

"Yes, they were killed and that is horrible," Snape sighed. "But the fault lies squarely on the Dark Lord for their deaths, not on you. The work we are doing is actually trying to stop the Dark Lord and in turn save innocent lives. If you let your misguided guilt cripple you, it simply means that more people will die as he gains more power."

"I will try to believe you," Harry told him quietly.

"Good," Snape nodded. "You may choose my lap or the desk."

"Hermione and Ron got the desk," Harry told him, as if saying that the desk was a harsher punishment.

"I'm letting you as my ward choose," Snape told him. "You will get equal smacks either way, you should choose which one you'd rather."

"I'd rather your lap," Harry confirmed. "But I feel like my punishment should be harsher, not easier."

"I order you over my lap then," Snape told him, stepping over to the sofa and sitting down. "I'm not giving you a choice."

Harry nodded, relieved. It was better not to have the choice, and he was grateful to have the comfort of touching Snape. Harry then placed himself over Snape's lap, gripping his robe and readying himself for his punishment.

"You will obey me," Snape told him. "And you will not act so foolishly again."

Harry nodded in acknowledgement, and then jumped as the first smack fell. Snape forced himself to apply the smacks as firmly as he had for the other two, though his heart wasn't in it. Of course he wanted to protect the lad from making such foolish decisions, but he also saw that this mistake was the product of trying to protect others. And so the smacks fell, stinging and firm, onto the jean-clad backside. Harry yelped and jumped a bit as they fell, but held still and didn't protest. When the last one cracked against his upper thighs, Harry yelped and let out a soft sob, letting the tears flow freely down his face.

Snape then laid the paddle down beside him and placed his hand on the back of the sobbing teenager. Harry shifted down until he was curled up beside Snape, his head on the man's lap. Snape smiled fondly at the teen, amused that they had developed a routine for when Harry got spanked even though it did not happen often.

"Ron and Hermione didn't cry like this," Harry ruefully said, accepting a handkerchief from his guardian.

"Neither of them were exactly dry-eyed," Snape commented, patting Harry's shoulder. "But I also don't think those tears are because it hurt. I think you had a frightening ordeal that ended in a massive amount of undeserved guilt, and that's pretty hard to deal with. That's why you're crying, Harry."

"I'm not a baby," he said, wiping his face.

"Of course you aren't," Snape answered solemnly. "You feel empathy for innocent people and creatures that were destroyed out of malice. I can't think of anything further from a baby than that."

"Thank you," Harry said, snuggling closer to Snape. Neither of them wanted to ruin the moment by clarifying what the thank you was for, and they both knew anyway.

Snape patted Harry's shoulder fondly, and just sat there with them. Let the others worry that he was killing Harry if they must, they both needed this.


	29. Chapter 29 - Drawing Conclusions

_AN: Sorry that this is a bit later than usual - out of town company is fun to stay up late and talk to but not so good for getting chapters done. :) I appreciate everyone who reads my stories, and extra appreciation for those that take the time to tell me what they think. :)_

* * *

Later that night, Hermione crept into the boys' room. She knew that they would wait for her, but she was careful not to earn the ire of any of the grown-ups. Although, she reasoned, Snape was gone and he was likely the only one who would reprimand her.

"You two okay?" she asked, settling down in the chair in their room, being careful of her sore bottom.

"Okay," Ron answered from the top bunk. "But blimey that man has an arm on him."

"I'm sorry you were punished," Harry told them.

"Don't be," Hermione answered firmly. "We were all equally at fault. Did you really take fifteen of those swats that time?"

"I did," Harry answered. "I was pretty sore afterwards."

"Merlin's sakes, Harry, I'm surprised you sat down that week!"

"It actually fades pretty fast," Harry told them. "You're sore now, but by morning you'll be fine. Apparently that's one of the advantages that the paddle has over the cane. Even when I got 15 I only had a few twinges the next day."

"Have you had the cane, Harry?" Hermione asked, concerned.

"No," Harry answered truthfully, though he didn't volunteer the abuse he had undergone at the Dursley's. "And if I haven't earned the cane by now, I don't think I'm going to."

"That's for sure," Ron snorted. "I would say you've earned it."

"That was rather foolish of us," Hermione admitted, looking at her hands. "Snape was right."

"He usually is," Harry sighed.

"I don't want to piss him off again," Ron agreed. "I guess we're going to have to follow the rules."

"I think the point is that we need to trust the adults more," Hermione told him. "And that's not something we're used to doing."

"They haven't given us much reason before," Ron said, rubbing his aching fundament.

Laughing, Harry chimed in, "Well, I think we have reason now. Hermione's right, we have a full team and should use all of them."

"I trust Dumbledore and Snape," Hermione confirmed. "And Sirius Black too."

"So how many Horcruxes are left?" Ron asked. "I mean, how many could the bloke make?"

"There are more, I feel it," Harry answered.

"If I were Voldemort I would use a normal stone and throw it on the bottom of the ocean or on the top of a mountain," Hermione sighed. "Do you think he was really foolish enough to leave them all around for us to discover and destroy?"

"I think you don't have the level of megalomania that Voldemort has," Harry answered. "I've been in his head, at least a little. He sees his reign as fated, and he sees himself as something of a savior of the wizarding world. He really doesn't think he can be defeated, so why store his soul in something as anonymous as a stone on the bottom of the ocean?"

"Bloody foolish," Ron snorted.

"And bloody lucky for us," Harry agreed. "Tomorrow we're going to talk with the old folks to try and see what the next step is."

. . .

Snape returned to the main room where Black and Dumbledore waited for him, and he gave them a black look as he poured himself a firewhiskey. He certainly deserved one.

"So you did it then?" Black asked him. "Did you really whack all three of them?"

"It's good I did," Snape answered. "Harry already is nearly crippled with guilt, it helped that they were each equally responsible."

Black whistled lowly, and took the decanter to pour himself a drink as well.

"Next time someone else does it," Snape announced after quaffing the drink. "Why am I the one who always plays the strict disciplinarian?"

"You do look the part, Severus," Dumbledore nodded gravely, but with his eyes sparkling. "I'm half scared of you myself. I think they would laugh if I were to order them to bend over for their punishment."

"And I would be shaking so bad I'd probably hit one in the head," Sirius smiled in apology. "I couldn't imagine having to scold them, let alone something firmer."

Rolling his eyes in disbelief, Snape poured another drink and sat down on the sofa as he snorted in answer.

"So how many more Horcruxes are there?" Sirius asked.

"I believe that there are at least a few more," Dumbledore answered, but there was something in his tone that made Snape look at him sharply.

"What are you not telling us?" Snape asked, his shrewd eyes on the former headmaster. "You know something."

"I need you to trust me to tell you when you need to know," Dumbledore answered hesitantly. "Trust me that I cannot tell you know."

Snorting again, Snape closed his eyes in exasperation. When would these Gryffindors realize their best chance of success lay in him knowing everything? "So what can you tell me then, old man?"

"Well, seeing as the cup of Helga Hufflepuff was used as a Horcrux as well as Slytherin's locket, I was thinking of other artifacts that might be used."

"He can't use the sword of Gryffindor," Snape told him tiredly. "He would never use something that answers to Gryffindors and not heeding who actually owns it, and even if he did the basilisk venom would have done him in."

"I was thinking about Ravenclaw," Dumbledore answered softly.

"The diadem," Snape answered, sitting up in interest. "But it's been lost for centuries."

"Lost at Hogwarts," Dumbledore answered. "And it brought to mind a time when Tom was at Hogwarts when the Grey Lady had a time of great distress. She would not tell anybody what it was about, but it comes to mind now."

"What does the Grey Lady have to do with it?" Sirius asked, incredulous.

"She's the one that lost it," Dumbledore told him. "She is Rowena's daughter, and she lost the diadem. But perhaps not really lost? What if Tom found it?"

"That's a good lead to check out," Snape nodded. "And I have one other option. I have long been disturbed by how Voldemort is with his snake. It's his familiar, of course, but they seem to be able to communicate in a way that is beyond the typical. Is it possible to make a living thing a Horcrux?"

"Yes, it is," Dumbledore confirmed with a flash of sadness in his eyes. "But it is not a good option. When the vessel dies the Horcrux is destroyed. However, there are some advantages in the way of communication and purpose while the thing is alive."

"So the snake is a good possibility," Snape said, watching Dumbledore carefully. He was not a master spy for nothing, he knew that whatever Dumbledore wasn't telling him was very serious.

"If Voldemort would be foolish enough to purposely put part of his soul in a living thing," Dumbledore answered.

"Then he did it accidently once," Snape divined, looking at the sad and shocked look on Dumbledore's face.

"Why would you think that . . ." Dumbledore hedged, and then the truth hit Severus heavily in his chest.

"Oh God, it's Harry," he said weakly, sitting down without realizing he had. What little color he had drained out of his face and he felt as if he were going to vomit.

"Harry?" Sirius echoed, suddenly a little faint himself. "But that means . . ."

"I see you see the truth," Dumbledore sighed. "I had hoped to keep it from you until I had to tell you. That's the scar on his forehead. He was an accidental Horcrux created when Voldemort killed his mother. His soul was so unstable by that time it didn't take much, and his soul latched onto the only living thing in the room. Soul shards prefer living things, when you create a Horcrux you have to force the shard into an inanimate object. That is why they affect us so – the shards would prefer to be in a body."

"His ability to identify the Horcruxes, his scar hurting with the Dark Lord's emotions, the Dark Lord able to communicate and link to his mind . . . Merlin, I can't believe I never saw it before." Snape felt the shock of it shake him to the very core. Harry – his Harry! – was a vessel to part of the Dark Lord's very soul.

"It's obvious once you see it," Dumbledore nodded. "I didn't know for sure until he was nearly lured to the ministry – how else could Voldemort have done that?"

"How can we fix this?" Snape asked in a hollow, dead voice. "I refuse to kill him to destroy Voldemort. How do we fix it?"

"I don't know," Dumbledore answered, his voice equally hollow.

"Kill Harry?" Sirius echoed. "Surely not. I mean, we have the two most brilliant wizards here since Merlin here, surely there has to be something else."

"I do have some hope with the prophecy," Dumbledore countered. "It says that neither can live while the other survives, implying that if we are able to kill Voldemort, then perhaps it will restore Harry somehow."

"And how are we to do that without killing Harry?" Snape asked incredulously. "This is a devilish puzzle, old man."

"I did have a theory that if Harry were to present himself to Voldemort and he performed the killing curse just as he did last time without Harry resisting, I think it may kill the Horcrux instead of Harry," Dumbledore explained. "I think his mother's spell would protect Harry enough that he should be able to survive."

"That sounds utterly foolish," Snape growled. "And that is not a chance I'm willing to take. If that is truly the only way, I want to know for sure."

"Absolutely," Dumbledore agreed. "But some things are hard to know for sure, Severus, and require some measure of faith."

"We will find every written word about Horcruxes," Snape said, his voice gaining power. He could push away the abject terror he was feeling and focus on the problem – he was good at that. "We will find a way to separate Harry from that shard. I refuse to let the Dark Lord take another person that I love."

"Love?" Sirius repeated blankly.

Snape, clearly feeling this was no time to dissemble, said clearly, "Yes, love. I have loved precious few people in my life, and that boy is one of them. He will survive if it kills me in the process."

"We are with you, Severus, of course," Dumbledore told him. "But I feel we need to keep it from him for now. Tell him when the time is right."

"I agree," Snape answered. "We will tell him when it's beneficial to tell him, and when we know more. But that boy does not go blindly into the battle, Albus, on that I am firm."

"We agree," Dumbledore answered. "And in some way it is a relief to share this burden with you two. I have a feeling by the time the curse claims me that you two will know all my secrets."

"All your secrets could be a dangerous thing," Snape answered wryly. "I can barely cope with the ones you've given us."

"You are coping remarkably well," Dumbledore assured him, his eyes twinkling once again. "And you will continue to do so."

"We have some dark books at my house," Sirius acknowledged. "I can Kreacher to fetch them. He's familiar with the darker places to procure such books as well, I will work with him on it."

"Sounds good," Snape answered. "I've already pilfered the restricted section at Hogwarts as well as the Headmaster's private library."

"I have a contact or two I can chase up," Dumbledore nodded. "I have been researching this for a while, but with fresh eyes I have great hope."


	30. Chapter 30 - Killing Birds

Harry stumbled down to breakfast one morning, rubbing his face against sleep and wondering if Ron were ever going to get out of bed. He saw Sirius asleep on the sofa, wondering again why the man seemed to prefer that over his perfectly fine bed in his room. He supposed it had something to do with being locked up, but he never bothered to answer. Dumbledore had provided himself with slightly more comfortable sleeping arrangement, he seemed to have conjured a pillow as he fell asleep a massive pile of books. Harry glanced at his cursed hand, grimacing as he passed. It was looking worse.

In the kitchen, Harry smiled to see that Snape was getting himself a cup of tea. He supposed it was the result of both of them growing up in mainly muggle households that there was still comfort in using everyday appliances to get them what they wanted.

"How did you sleep?" Snape asked him softly.

"Well enough," Harry answered. "Were you here instead of Hogwarts?"

"Research," Snape answered simply. "There's much to do. And it's not exactly material I can be seen with there."

"None too soon," Harry answered. "My scar was hurting a bit last night, that means that he's up to something."

Snape's eyes flashed up from the cup and locked onto Harry's eyes with a burning intensity. "Do you sense him in any other place of your body?" Snape asked carefully.

"No," Harry told him. "I mean, I've had dreams and everything, but I really sense him in my scar."

"Let me see it," Snape told him, fastening his gimlet eyes on the innocuous-looking scar.

Harry obediently pulled up his hair and let Snape look. Snape drew closer, examining every inch of the scar carefully. He felt the skin around the scar and then the scar itself.

"It might work," he mumbled to himself. "Two birds with one stone."

"What might work?" Harry asked, feeling a little odd. "I've had this scar forever."

"Not forever," Snape told him. "You've had it since the night your mother was killed."

"It's a mark of the dark magic that the Dark Lord performed, I know," Harry told him. "But what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking you're wrong," Snape answered, his voice strangely giddy and his eyes sparkling. "I believe that that mark that you have borne may end up being the salvation of us all."

"How could that be?" Harry asked, flummoxed.

"I need to talk to Dumbledore," Snape answered. "I promise to tell you everything once I have talked to him."

"I want to talk to you too!" Harry insisted.

"No," Snape answered, his voice firm. "You cannot. I have to learn if what I propose is even possible. Get some breakfast, I will talk to you shortly."

Harry was about to protest, but Snape turned and looked in his eyes. "Please, Harry. I promise to tell you after I have discussed it with Dumbledore. I don't want to give you false hope."

Harry nodded in response, though he felt his stomach churn with anxiety. What could this be about? "If you promise, I will wait," he promised.

With that, Snape left the room with a snap of his robes to leave an overly-curious weirdly optimistic teenager in his wake. If Snape was excited, surely that was good news? After all, he was not one to get giddy over nothing.

Harry was on his third cup of tea and his first bowl of yogurt and granola, as Hermione has insisted he eat, when Ron came down.

"What's up with the olds?" Ron asked, yawning.

"Snape got some sort of idea when we were talking," Harry explained. "I don't know what it was, but it has him excited."

"What were you talking about just before that?" Hermione asked.

"My scar," Harry answered simply. "He said something about two birds with one stone."

"Two Galleons says that it involves you drinking some bloody horrid potion," Ron grumbled a laugh as he made a face at the yogurt.

"No bet," Harry laughed. "I know him too well."

"So what could the two birds be?" Hermione asked.

"Maybe something with a Horcrux?" Harry guessed. "I'm not sure what else he could get so excited about. But I don't know what my scar has to do with a Horcrux."

Hermione paled, looking at Harry with abject fear.

"No," she whispered. "It couldn't be. They would have told us."

"What?" Ron asked, suddenly concerned. "What are you thinking, Hermione?"

"How do you make a Horcrux?" she rasped.

"You have to split your soul," Harry answered. "And a bit of that soul goes into an object."

"Or a living thing," Hermione whispered. "Harry, what if your scar is a Horcrux?"

"What?" he tried to yell, but came out more as a squeak. "I can't be. Remember how we felt when we held the Horcrux? Making us feel hopeless and like nothing would ever be good again? Angry and grouchy? I'm not like that."

"Perhaps," Hermione conceded. "But you do seem to sense them, and you have this weird connection with Voldemort . . ."

"Horcruxes are vile," Harry spat, but sounding more desperate than angry. "I, I can't be one. Why would he want me as one of his Horcruxes?"

"What if it was an accident, mate?" Ron asked, suddenly seeing what Hermione was saying. "What if he doesn't even know?"

"And when he killed your mother . . ."

"He split his soul," Harry finished for her. "But why am I not depressed and angry all the time then?"

"Perhaps it was confined to your scar," he heard Snape answer, and they all jumped to realize who had spoken. Obviously they were so caught up in what they were saying they did not notice him enter the room.

"Snape?" Harry asked, to desperate to feel anything else.

Snape sighed, wishing he had been the one to tell the lad. But he should have known that the young witch would figure it out – he was almost surprised she hadn't before.

"Would you three accompany me to the sitting room?" he asked formally, realizing the time for secrets was over. "We apparently have a lot to talk about."

"But if I'm a Horcrux, you have to kill me," Harry whispered to Hermione as they walked to the sitting room. "There's no choice."

"Life is made up of choices, Harry," Snape answered him smoothly. "Please try not to panic until we can discuss this more thoroughly."

"He has the hearing of a bat," Harry whispered darkly, though it made him feel immensely better that Snape seemed to know what he was doing. Perhaps it wasn't the end of the world if he was a Horcrux.

They came into the room, and one look from Dumbledore had him pouring a firewhiskey for all of them.

"They are a little young," Snape protested as he included the children.

"They are nearly of age," Dumbledore answered. "And they're going to need it. Drink up, children. I made yours more dilute."

The kids obeyed. Hermione took a cautious sip and then quickly put the glass down in distaste, Ron quaffed his and choked, and Harry couldn't find the will to bring it to his mouth. Finally he did, taking a large sip and feeling the warmth spread throughout his body. It did, strangely, make him feel a bit better.

"Is Harry a Horcrux, sir?" Hermione asked. "Was I right?"

"You are right and you are wrong, depending on your perspective," Dumbledore answered vaguely.

"Tell me the truth," Harry rasped, taking another healthy sip. "I need to know the truth."

"Your scar is a Horcrux, Harry," Snape decided to intervene and be more direct. "Without your mother's spell it likely would have spread throughout your body and then you, wholly, would have been a Horcrux. But instead the Horcrux was limited and confined to just your scar, a most unusual event. I suspect it has hardly affected you, I mean, beyond the obvious."

"My scar?" Harry repeated blankly, his hand going to his forehead.

"Yes," Snape answered. "It explains your connection to the Dark Lord as well as your connection to the other Horcruxes."

"How long have you known?" Harry asked.

"Three weeks," Snape answered. "It is why I have been pouring myself into research, to find how to fix it."

"We knew how disturbing it would be for you to find out," Dumbledore told him. "We wanted to know as much as possible when we did."

"And then I stumbled upon the story of Clayton Clement," Snape told him. "He was a low-level death-eater during the first campaign, and sorely regretted his decision to take the Dark Mark. While Voldemort was still alive he plotted his escape from the organization, knowing that his Dark Mark would kill him if he tried to run or if the Dark Lord suspected him. And so he tried something quite desperate to rid himself of the mark – he cut off his own arm."

"Did it work?" Hermione asked in surprise as Ron turned an interesting shade of puce.

"It did," Snape nodded. "He left his arm behind and ran, never to be heard from again. The Dark Lord never caught him, just his arm."

"But my scar isn't a Dark Mark," Harry argued.

"But it is very close to one," Snape responded. "The magic the Dark Lord used to create the Dark Mark was very similar."

"You can't bloody lop off his head," Ron protested. "What will you do?"

"Cut it out," Snape said simply. "And that was the extent of my plan until this morning when I realized something else."

"What?" Harry asked, feeling completely confused.

"That scar that we so desperately want to vanquish could be the means of salvation for Dumbledore."

"What?" Albus asked, shocked.

"Think, man," Snape told him. "If you had the scar, it would vanquish the curse. The curse must have been able to be defeated by the Horcrux in the ring, so why wouldn't it work for Harry's Horcrux?"

"Are you mad?" Sirius asked, his mouth agape. "You would risk actually infecting Dumbledore with a Horcrux in order to cure him?"

"He doesn't have my mother's spell," Harry argued. "What if it didn't stay in the scar?"

"He'll have every protective spell we can muster," Snape explained. "As well as the force of his own soul to keep it in check."

"If I die, I am not much worse off than now," Dumbledore reasoned. "After all, my time is drawing to an end anyway."

"Are you sure?" Snape asked. "It could mean your death."

"I'm sure," he answered. "How soon could we do it?"

"Three days," Snape reasoned. "There's a protective potion I would like to brew, and we need more research on surgical spells."

"Will it even be able to be cut out of me?" Harry asked.

"It's our best hope," Snape answered him, his eyes glinting with desperation. "I shudder to think of the alternatives. Don't worry, I will render you unconscious with a potion."

"I told you it would involve a nasty-tasting potion," Ron chided.

"Let me help," Hermione said to them. "Please. I will research around the clock."

"Let's pace ourselves," Snape nodded. "But yes, we would like help from all of you. There is a lot to accomplish."

"But professor," Hermione argued. "What if, well, what if we can't contain the Horcrux? What if Dumbledore wholly becomes the Horcrux?"

"You kill me," Dumbledore answered firmly.

"Who would do that?" she asked. "I mean, I guess Professor Snape has already done it once . . ."

"Indeed, Miss Granger," Snape answered calmly, though his gut wrenched at the thought. "I suppose I am already known as the killer of Dumbledore, perhaps I should do what it takes to earn the title."

"This is a bloody awful cure," Harry nodded. "But if it works . . ."

"Two birds with one stone," Snape answered for him. "Merlin help us."


	31. Chapter 31 - Slicing Flesh

_AN: Sorry for the delay, but I am finding myself reluctant to finish. We are within a few chapters of wrapping up, so I will attempt to get my psyche under control. Thank you for everyone who has read and commented on my story, it really means a lot to me._

"Greetings," Dumbledore bowed to the guest arriving by floo.

"You look good for a dead man," Madame Pomfrey replied, clutching her black medical bag. "And perhaps good for a man with the level of insanity required for this undertaking."

"You know my condition," he told her, placating. "Since I have no chance of surviving otherwise, this makes me brave."

"Foolhardy," she replied with a sigh. "You know that I'm doubting we could have this conversation tomorrow."

"It is by a miracle orchestrated by Severus that I'm talking to you today, Madame," he replied with deep respect. "Shall I show you to the operating theater?"

"Do you have the necessary equipment for the backup plan?"

"Yes, and Sirius is prepared, if need be," Dumbledore told her. "We aren't telling the children of that plan explicitly, no need to disturb them more than needed. They're with Snape and Harry now."

"Is Snape sedating Harry then?" she asked. "Poor lad. Hopefully he's able to help him feel safe and calm, otherwise the sedation can cause horrible nightmares."

"I believe him capable of the task," Dumbledore smiled. "Follow me. But first I must extract a promise."

"Yes?"

"You will be caring for Harry after the surgery and Severus and Sirius will be tending me. You need to promise me that you will not leave Harry's side to tend to me under any circumstances."

"But what if you're more badly hurt?"

"Under no circumstances," the headmaster repeated. "You're his best chance of survival, and I refuse to participate in this procedure unless I'm sure that you will be with him."

"I promise," she answered, touched by the headmaster's ferocity on the subject.

"Very well," Dumbledore nodded. "We may proceed."

. . .

"Hold still, now," Snape told Harry firmly. "Just focus on my voice. The potion should take you away relatively quickly."

"I feel funny," Harry answered. And he did – sort of like he was floating but his body stayed still.

"I know," Snape answered. "Just trust me, you will be out in a few minutes.

"I trust you, you know," Harry answered him. "More than I've ever trusted anyone. Maybe even love you."

"I see," Snape answered soberly. Talking freely was one of the side effects, and he ignored the grins by the other adults in the room. He heard a mild expletive by the Weasley boy, which he also was able to ignore. He was sorry that Harry told his secrets in front of people, but he also felt mollified to know that's what the boy really felt. "I am quite honored by your feelings. Now I want you to picture the beach . . ."

"Never been there," Harry answered firmly. "Stupid Dursleys wouldn't take me, they made me go with the crazy cat lady."

"I see," Snape answered. "Perhaps picture your bed then, with a nice soft pillow . . ."

"Didn't have a pillow at the Dursleys," Harry continued. "So you mean Hogwarts then?"

"Yes, Hogwarts," Snape clarified. "Somewhere safe and warm . . ."

"Hogwarts isn't safe!" Harry protested. "Do you know how many times I've nearly been killed here?"

"Where is safe, then?" Snape asked with exasperation.

"Your house," Harry answered promptly. "Last summer was the best summer of my life."

"Alright, my house," Snape said.

"With you sipping tea and reading, and me trying to write to Ron," Harry helpfully supplied. "And you tell me that I have to stop mangling my quill or you will stick it to my hand for a week."

"Alright," Snape answered, trying to keep his voice calm as he remembered the episode that Harry referenced. Why would that make him feel safe?

"That's when I knew," Harry told him. "That's when I knew for sure."

"Knew what?" Snape asked in that same monotone voice.

"That's when I knew you loved me too," Harry smiled, his voice becoming sleepy. "It was just a day like any other day, but that's when I knew for certain. I was bothering you, but you didn't hurt me. You let me be in your space and in your life. You can try to object, but I know that you love me. You're my Dad."

"I'm not objecting," Snape told him softly, keeping his voice calm. He knew that contradicting the lad would not let him drift off peacefully, but he also knew in his heart that he didn't want to object. "Now I want you to concentrate on my voice, Harry, and slip off to sleep . . ."

Snape realized that Harry had dropped off, and he allowed himself a smile.

"He's a good boy," Dumbledore said, ruffling the unconscious boy's hair. "In Vino Veritas, eh Severus?"

"You can't trust declarations made by someone under the influence," Snape replied in his acerbic tone. "Otherwise every drunk in the bar would have found true love."

"Milady doth protest too much," Sirius teased, his eyes glittering. "Though seriously, Snape, I'm glad he has a father somewhere, even if it's you."

"Eloquent as always, Black," he replied. "But now is the time for the hard part. We will need to extract the Horcrux from Harry."

"Shouldn't Dumbledore be out?" Sirius asked. "Won't this be hard on him too?"

"We might need him in removing the Horcrux," Snape answered. "He will have to take his chances with the pain."

"After the pain of my cursed arm I'm sure I can handle it," Dumbledore answered calmly. "And that way if this is my end, I should be able to bid you goodbye."

"Will that happen?" Ron asked, paling.

"It shouldn't," Snape answered calmly. "But there is always that chance. If Dumbledore isn't strong enough and the Horcrux wins, we might even have to kill him."

"But professor . . ." Hermione objected.

"It has been decided," Dumbledore calmed them. "But Severus, is my wand warded?"

"Warded," Snape answered. "You will not be able to retrieve it, but if we need you to have it I can fetch it."

"You just don't want to spout your secrets, headmaster," Madame Pomfrey quipped. "Severus, I believe you are going to perform the surgery while I care for Harry after the . . . object is incised, correct?"

"Correct," Snape replied. "But when you are done with that I want your help in attaching it to Dumbledore. If you are free."

"I've been doing some reading," Hermione offered. "I am happy to assist as well."

"I could use another wand," Madame Pomfrey told her. "And I'm certain that you have the dittany as well, Severus?"  
"Not a standard supply for Hogwarts, is it?" he asked with a sly look.

"If it was I wouldn't have to borrow it so often," she told him with a look. "But we want to remove the scar, correct?"

"I discussed this with Harry, and he wouldn't mind a scar approximating what he will lose," Snape told him. "Might save some explaining later."

"I'll see what I can do," Poppy promised. "Now let me set up my equipment and we can get started."

Just a few minutes later Snape found himself gripping his wand with concentration. He reflected that it had been a good wand for him, and he hoped that there was at least one miracle left in it. It had been many years since he had had such doubt that he would be able to accomplish what he set out to do. There were just so many variables . . .

"It's time, Severus," Madame Pomfrey told him calmly. "I will staunch the blood as you make the incision."

Taking a deep breath, Snape realized that there was no delaying the inevitable. Raising his wand, he began muttering the incantation. Slowly, a line began to form around the scar, and then it deepened into his flesh. Poppy's wand was just beside him, as well as a handful of gauze catching the blood that drizzled out.

"Here, Hermione, hold here," Madame Pomfrey directed. "Oh dear, I believe Mr. Weasley has been rendered unconscious."

"I've got him," Sirius told her. "You guys continue."

"You must get deeper, Severus," Madame Pomfrey directed. "You must make sure to get it all."

"I'd like to leave him his skull," Snape snapped at her. "He's no use to us if he's lobotomized."

"It will be fine," she told him. "I can regrow the flesh in a snap. Just make sure you get all of that wicked thing."

"Being close to it is affecting me," Snape told her. "I'm sorry Madame, I am trying to use occlumency to counteract the effects."

"It's fighting back," Madame Pomfrey acknowledged. "It's trying to hold on. You must be firm, Severus."

"I am you bloody harpy!" he snapped again, and then flushed. "Sorry."

"We can reconcile later," she told him. "Just get the bloody thing."

Snape, feeling the sweat dripping down his neck, carefully continued his advancement of cutting it out. He had to go slow enough to let Poppy catch the bleeding, but firmly enough that the Horcrux couldn't re-grow roots. Finally, he felt the last thread separate from Harry's head.

"It's out," he told Poppy. "Take over Harry, I'm going to work on Dumbledore."

"I've got him," she assured him. "Do your work."

"It's too bad we can't just destroy the bloody thing," Sirius grimaced, looking as Snape levitated the piece of flesh. Such a small thing to create such big problems.

"Hair of the dog," Snape replied. "Let's see if this poison could be the cure."

"Just know, Severus, that if it doesn't work it's not your fault," Dumbledore told him, laying down himself. "This is a great start."

"Just words, old man," he told him. "This will work."

"Apply the numbing potion to your forearm," he directed. "It only works for a few minutes, so I will try to finish in that time."

"Such a thoughtful lad," Dumbledore commented, applying the potion. "I'm ready."

Snape, breathing deeply, decided that actually this part of the procedure was easier, just fraught with a lot more danger. Carefully, he sliced open Dumbledore's ruined forearm and placed the piece of Harry's flesh in it. With a few spoken words of healing, the flesh knit together. Snape sat back, his wand at the ready.

"That's very interesting," Dumbledore nodded. "I feel it taking hold. It wants a host, it's putting out feelers."

"Can you feel the curse recede?" Snape asked.

"I think it may be," Dumbledore answered. "It feels so odd . . ."

Suddenly, Dumbledore went stiff and his eyes closed, exhaling his breath. His body convulsed, sparks flying off of it.

"What's happening?" Sirius asked, his wand drawn as well.

"I think it's working," Snape told him, his eyes glued to the headmaster's hand. "Look, the curse is fading."

"Will it work?" Sirius asked.

"Too early to tell," Snape answered. "You realize that not only does the Horcrux have to defeat the curse, but Dumbledore has to defeat the Horcrux. Either thing could go spectacularly wrong."

"I think time will tell," Sirius answered. "I'm at the ready."

"How's Harry?" Snape asked, looking at his unconscious ward.

"Fine," Madame Pomfrey answered. "I have the incision half closed now. My preliminary diagnostic showed no sign of the Horcrux remaining. Hermione, dear, could you . . ."

Madame Pomfrey's directions were cut short by a shout from Dumbledore, and all eyes went to him as he levitated off of his bed. Wind and light spun around him as the cupboards rattled and the bits of paper flew everywhere. Madame Pomfrey erected an emergency dome around her and Harry and continued to close his wound, Hermione frantically helping. Snape and Sirius, wands ready, waited to see what would happen next. Dumbledore, still levitating, opened his eyes to reveal them turning completely black.

"Headmaster?" Snape asked. "Are you still yourself?"

With a mighty roar, Dumbledore yelled as light pulsed throughout his body. He held out the cursed hand and looked at Sirius with command. "Cut it off!" he ordered.

Not hesitating a second, Sirius took the sword of Godric Gryffindor and with a yell swung it in a flashing arc, neatly severing the headmaster's arm just above the elbow. The hand hissed and smoked as it separated, and it fell to the ground. The fingers which had recently been cursed but attached now curled upward as if in supplication.

Snape saw the blood and forced himself not to panic, and immediately began cauterizing the wound. He may not be as skilled as Madame Pomfrey, but he had been in battle before and knew how to stop the bleeding. Dumbledore fell into a heap back on his bed, and Snape had the bleeding sealed before the minute was out.

"I'm almost done," the matron called to Snape. "I promised Dumbledore that I wouldn't leave Harry's side."

"He's stable," Snape answered. "He can wait until you're done. I've stopped the bleeding, but he's unconscious."

"Probably magical exhaustion after that display," she harrumphed. "Here we go, Harry's done. Hermione, stay with him and monitor his breathing and heartbeat. If you see anything or if he starts bleeding, call out."

"Yes, ma'am," Hermione replied.

"Stand back, Severus, I'm going to run a diagnostic," she told him curtly.

Snape backed away as Madame Pomfrey passed her wand over the inert body of the former headmaster. She concentrated her diagnostics on the arm that had been cut off and the stump, as well as around his heart and lungs.

"He's severely magically exhausted," Madame Pomfrey told Snape. "I've never seen a case where a person was so drained and still alive. He will need some antidote for the basilisk venom, even though it was only a trace it's starting to have an affect. Good thing Fawkes donated some tears just before this endeavor."

"The curse?" Snape asked. "The Horcrux?"

"Gone," she answered, breaking into a relieved smile. "Merlin be praised, Severus, they're gone. He must have used the power of the Horcrux to force the curse into just his arm, and then forced the Horcrux to stay there as well."

"He'll live?" Snape asked incredulously. "It worked?"

"Yes, but he will be unconscious for a long time," she told him. "Probably months. He will need care to keep his body alive until he's able to come back to it."

"But he will come back, right?" Snape asked.

Madame Pomfrey smiled gently at the vulnerability that she heard in his voice. She knew that the tough exterior was what Snape showed others, she knew that his heart was quite soft, and he cared for the headmaster. "He'll come back, Severus," she answered. "There's always a possibility that he wouldn't, but I think the headmaster has already shown himself to be more than a match for such things as a curse and a mere Horcrux."

"Thank you, Poppy," he told her softly.

"Now take care of the lad," she told him. "He will be disoriented when he awakes. I'll see if I can improve your work on the stump and apply the antidote."

"What about the . . . severed appendage?" Hermione asked, looking at the severed arm with distaste. "I mean, is it still a Horcrux?"

"Likely," Snape answered. "We'll have to use fiend fire unless someone has the stomach to stab it."

"I can do it," Sirius answered, picking up the sword again. "It doesn't bother me too much. I have to be good for something."

"It's safer than fiendfire," Snape nodded, and then looked away. He had seen so many horrendous things in his life, but somehow the idea of watching Sirius dispatch the Horcrux on Dumbledore's severed arm just proved too much. He heard it done, felt the power pulse around him, and then felt peace. It was done. And now all that was left was to kill the monster that created it in the first place.


	32. Chapter 32 - Conversing with the Dead

Snape swooped his robes into the headmaster's office and seated himself in front of they grey man. He shot the man an angry look, to which the headmaster merely chuckled to himself.

"I see you've found the way in, Severus," he greeted.

"You could have made it easier," he grumbled. "I don't have a lot of time with them asleep in which to attempt this level of occlumency."

"It would have insulted you to make it too easy, Severus. Welcome to my imagination," Dumbledore smirked. "What does it appear to be to you?"

"Your office," Snape mused. "After all of the things you have done in your life, apparently your position as headmaster is the most definitive."

"I have always felt the most at home here," he smiled warmly. "I wonder how you've changed it in your tenure as headmaster."

"I have barely changed anything," Snape admitted. "My stated goal has always been either you or Minerva would be sitting in that chair come September."

"Really, Severus, I think that you would make a splendid headmaster," Dumbledore told him. "Especially if you weren't trying to appear to favor the Slytherins and curry favor with the children of death-eaters."

"You know as well as I do that just because I didn't take points that it doesn't mean that my house wasn't properly disciplined," Snape told him, flicking an imaginary piece of lint off of his robe-covered knee.

"Of course, of course, my boy," Dumbledore smirked at him. "And because I know that is why I think you would make an excellent headmaster."

"I only agreed temporarily because we needed me to do it," Snape answered.

"That doesn't mean you're not good at it," Dumbledore laughed at him.

"My time might be short," Snape told him, firmly changing the subject. "Especially given Weasley's propensity for midnight snacks. I assume there is at least something you can tell me that will be of help."

"There are two Horcruxes left," Dumbledore told him. "Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem is somewhere at Hogwarts, I would try the room of requirement first. The second one is, as you intuited, Nagini."

"Are you sure?" Snape asked him.

"When the Horcrux was part of me, however briefly, I was able to feel the others," Dumbledore acknowledged. "I'm sure. Harry would have been able to feel them if he had known more of what to do. You get those two last Horcruxes, and then Harry can kill Voldemort."

Snape's face blackened. "There are more competent wizards than Harry," Snape protested. "Surely a grown-up could be called upon to perform that task."

"You know it has to be him," Dumbledore gently chided. "The prophecy."

"The prophecy was given by a crazy woman trying to get a job!" Snape snapped at him. "There is no way that you can say that's how it has to be!"

"You know it as well as I do," Dumbledore reminded him gravely. "Harry is the only one able to defeat him. All of this work we've done is to clear the path so when Harry has the opportunity that he is able to do the deed."

"I wish to spare him of it," Snape told Dumbledore simply. "What do I do?"

"You could give your own life to deliver Harry from this task and it wouldn't work," Dumbledore told him. "Severus, I see how much you care for the boy. All we can do is set him in the right path and pray for him."

"I don't believe in prophecies," Snape answered darkly.

"The prophecy doesn't require your approval," Dumbledore smiled at him. "But there is someone else that does. Don't let Harry go into that battle unsure of your feelings for him."

"He knows I care about him," Snape answered smugly. "You heard what he said when I was rendering him unconscious."

"But having the actual words of love and affection are so much more important than the words of admonishment," Dumbledore told him. "Severus, you have been a warrior long enough to know the uncertainty of what we do. This is war, anything can happen. If that boy is struck down by the demon he is hoping to vanquish, will you regret what has been unsaid? What is left undone? Would you have, just once, wished to hold him to your chest and tell him how you feel about him?"

"I would give anything to do that with Lily," Snape admitted.

"Do you feel that deeply about Harry?" Dumbledore asked carefully.

"I do," Snape answered. "Always."

"Then take the opportunity to tell him," Dumbledore told him, sitting back and steepling his hands. "I would hate for you to live with the regret of not doing so. And the boy deserves to hear it said as well, he has had precious little affection in his life."

"So now you are honest about it," Snape grumbled. "He should never have been put with those people."

"The fates are a funny thing," Dumbledore mused. "I know that that home was not a happy place for the boy, but I also wonder about who it made him to be. I do not forecast these things, I am merely a player in the currents of fate."

"You have become quite the philosopher in your afterlife," Snape quipped. "So when are you going to leave this dream and rejoin the rest of us?"

"It will be months, Severus," Dumbledore replied sadly. "And my power levels may never again be what they once were. Especially with Harry having my wand."

"Harry has your wand?" Severus exploded. "Of all the pig-headed things! We had agreed later!"

"Time was of the essence," Dumbledore merrily replied. "Goodness, Severus, you are nearly turning purple. I find myself glad you can't punch me right now."

"When?" Snape rasped in a harsh whisper.

"Just before the procedure," Dumbledore answered. "Harry is unaware of it. I did it under the guise of dueling practice, and I allowed him to unwand me. I had a hunch he would need the wand more than I would over the next month."

"Did you not mean to survive?" Snape croaked.

"I figured I could win it back if I did," Dumbledore reasoned.

"You realize that if the Dark Lord realizes that the boy has the Elder wand for which he's been seeking . . ."

"He can't be any more of a target than he is already," Dumbledore reasoned. "And he could use the help."

"You should have consulted with me," he snapped, his agitation clear.

"Severus, my dear boy," Dumbledore smiled kindly. "You cannot control everything. You are in fact a limited human being. I know that your early life tends to make it that you want to control everything . . ."

"It's not about that!"

"Control is an orphan wound, my boy," he said sadly. "People with healthy parents rarely feel the need to have control over everything."

"And they rarely get things done," Snape glowered.

"Come, come, you know this is for the best," Dumbledore told him. "You know as well as I do that that boy needs help."

"He needs a one-way ticket to New Zealand," Snape told him darkly. "He needs to be out of the middle of this mess so he can grow up into an adult."

"Would that our world would allow it," Dumbledore agreed. "But this world needs to be saved from the likes of Voldemort, and he is the only one able to do it."

"What if you're wrong?" Snape asked, emotion raw in his voice. "What if the Dark Lord kills him?"

"I know you care for the boy," Dumbledore acknowledged. "Probably more than anybody since Lily. And now you have to do the major work of a parent before you've even had very much enjoyment as a parent. You have to let him go to fulfill his destiny."

"And how am I supposed to do that?" Snape quipped, finding himself alarmingly close to tears. "My mum and Lily are gone, am I meant to lose everyone that I care about?"

"My poor boy," Dumbledore sympathized. "Your poor heart has been so damaged. But holding onto Harry is not a way to protect your heart. You would end up destroying what you seek so hard to protect."

"I wish I could protect him."

"I know," Dumbledore answered. "But if you seek to thwart his destiny that's not protection, that's controlling. He is a brave and talented wizard, Severus. My money is on him winning."

"You do not know the Dark Lord like I do," Snape answered, his voice raw. "I have seen what he is capable! It doesn't matter to him that Harry is a child, or an innocent. In fact, he revels in those facts. His goal is corruption and hate."

"You have seen many terrible things," Dumbledore nodded.

"So many!" Snape agreed. "So many. And I could do nothing to help the victims because I had to maintain my status as spy. Would that I had died defending one of them."

"Don't you dare die defending Harry," Dumbledore told him. "Remember how guilty he was when Sirius hurt you? You can't do that to the boy. You keep your wits about you and you carry an antidote for Nagini's bite, do you hear me?"

"I hear you," Snape nodded, mollified to remember how much the boy cared about him too.

"You are worth far more to that boy as a father going forward than a dead but loyal servant now."

"I suppose," Snape agreed. "So what is the plan?"

"The confrontation should be at Hogwarts," Dumbledore told him. "The Dark Lord is gaining strength, so the sooner the better. If the battle is there then Hogwarts itself can help you. You need the diadem, and you need to lure Voldemort there in a way that will tempt him to bring Nigini. He needs to be assured of his win so that he doesn't make more of an effort to back himself up. And he needs to think he can defeat Harry."

"That's a tall order," Snape agreed.

"There should be two teams," Dumbledore suggested. "One for each remaining Horcrux. Snape, it will have to be you with Nagini, because he trusts you enough to get close. There needs to be a signal when each Horcrux is destroyed, and then Harry can take on Voldemort. He should use his first wand first, and keep the elder as a backup."

"We need an air-tight plan," Snape agreed. "And yours, old man, is one of the best I've seen for strategy. Let's figure out how to change the world."


	33. Chapter 33 - Fighting the Fight

_AN: Sorry for the delay, work has been hectic. This is really the last chapter, despite the cliffhanger (which really isn't, if you know my writing). There will be an epilogue/denouement chapter next which will be up in the next few days._

* * *

Harry held onto his wand as spellfire erupted. Here he was in the final battle, the one that would determine everything, and all he could think about was the interaction with his guardian that morning. His arms still tingled a bit at the hug, and he kept thinking of the warmth and affection he had felt from the man.

"Harry, you know the plan," Snape had told him that morning. "How are you feeling?"

"Good," he answered. "I'm glad to have my wand back, I thought for sure I'd never have it again."

"The elder wand is capable of a great deal," Snape acknowledged with a small smirk. "Even wand repair."

"My wand feels better," Harry confessed. "The elder wand feels like it likes me, but not that it's an extension of me like my first wand."

"Your first wand is always your primary one," Snape explained. "Which is why wizards are so loathe to lose them. Now, do you remember everything we've talked about?"

"You made me go over it a million times," Harry laughed. "Not even a thick Gryffindor like me can forget."

"Then there is one more thing," Snape told him gravely. "Something I have been meaning to tell you for some time, but it never seemed right."

"What?" Harry asked, a note of panic in his voice.

"It's a good thing," Snape told him, seeing his worry. "I simply want to tell you how much I've enjoyed becoming your guardian and how . . . attached to you I have grown. I have come to view you as a son, Harry."

Harry, shocked by the truthful emotion in Snape's declaration, simply blinked in response.

"I realize that I am not of the most cheerful disposition . . ." Snape began, and suddenly he felt the arms of the teenager wrap around him firmly. Harry was hugging him! Snape stopped what he was saying in shock. Slowly, he raised his arms to hug Harry back.

"I love you too," Harry answered, his voice muffled by the cloak. "But people only say things like this when the other's going to die."

"We're going to live, Harry," Snape told him gently. "We're going to live together after this, and I am going to see you graduate if it kills me. Is that clear? No reckless dying today, dying of any kind will be punished most severely."

"Clear," Harry laughed, breaking the hug and wiping the tears that had sprung to his eyes.

"Now I believe we both have a madman to kill," Snape told him. "Let's get busy."

. . .

Hermione and Sirius entered Hogwarts, focusing on finding the room of requirement. They entered at three in the morning, hoping that that would mean they could walk around undetected. Even with disillusionment charm, neither were foolish enough to believe that they couldn't be spotted.

"Neville!" Hermione exclaimed in a shocked whisper. "What are you doing out of bed at this hour?"

"Stealing food," he answered, recognizing her voice with a grin. "What are you doing here?"

"We have to find something in the room of requirement," Hermione explained. "The room sometimes becomes a warehouse to hide things, and there's something very specific that we're looking for."

"What are you looking for?" he asked, intrigued. He could somewhat see their outlines, though the color and texture of Hermione was the same as the wall.

"Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem," she whispered back.

"The room is right now providing shelter for those that are being hunted here," Neville explained swiftly. "You know, muggle-borns and such. In order to become the room that hides things everyone is going to have to get out."

"How do you know so much about the room?" Hermione asked with an unseen smile. That smile faded, however, when she saw two half-healed gouges on his cheek. The confidence he had was so different than before, but she wondered at what price that confidence had come.

"It likes me," Neville shrugged. "But how are we going to get everyone out of the room so it can transform without being caught? I know you haven't been her, Hermione, but Filtch's cat isn't the big threat around here anymore."

"We'll work on it when we get there," she told him. "We actually might need everyone's help in finding the bloody thing. Lead the way."

In the end, it was Sirius' suggestion of raising walls around the entrance of the room of requirement that worked.

"Used to do it all the time as a student," he scoffed, deftly conjuring a wall with a multiplication charm and setting it in place. "Dead useful for confusing someone after you."

"You know if you had used any of your brilliance for pranks towards something actually useful you could do some good," Hermione told him with a note of scolding in her voice.

"Yeah, but how is that fun?" he asked with a lopsided grin.

Hermione smirked, finding herself liking this man more than the scared scarecrow of a man that had been inhabiting their hideout. Apparently being back at Hogwarts was re-awakening his sense of play.

"That's everyone," Neville nodded as a crowd of bruised, messy students filled the sectioned-off hallway. "I checked every hammock."

"So how do we find the right room then?" Sirius asked.

"You have to need it," Neville smiled.

As he said that, the door re-appeared. Neville confidently opened it, revealing a vast, dusty room full of piles and piles of undeterminable junk.

"How are we supposed to find anything in here?" Sirius gasped.

"Professor Snape was worried about this," Hermione nodded, unsurprised. She squatted cross-legged on the floor and brought out of her small purse a compact cauldron as well as the apparatus to brew a potion. "It will take me a few minutes to set up, but once it is boiling the steam from this potion Professor Snape gave me will be attracted to dark artifacts. There are surely a good number of dark artifacts hiding in here, but with everyone looking together hopefully we can make short work of finding and destroying it."

"Professor Snape?" Neville asked, mouth agape. "He's _helping_ you?"

"We cannot say much about it," Hermione answered with a stern look to Sirius. "But suffice it to say that things may not be as you assumed they were."

. . .

Snape felt the coin in his hand heat, and he looked down to see it had changed color, from silver to gold. The Diadem had been destroyed and the players were in place. Now was the time to start his plan of action. Snape took one breath to consider, because he knew what was about to happen could easily cost the life of one of the people he had grown to at least tolerate, perhaps even the life of the boy he had grown to love. Could he live with that? Knowing he couldn't stop the forces that had forced this confrontation, he steeled himself to the task.

Pulling back the sleeves of his robe, he pressed his wand against the dark mark and said firmly, "Milord, I believe the time you have wished for has come about."

As he had predicted, within moments Voldemort was in his office. Snape knew that his arrival was a combination of apparating outside of the school and then using unassisted flight to his office, but the haste at which he appeared showed his eagerness. "He's here?" Voldemort asked. Snape saw Nagini slithering at the Dark Lord's feet with relief – that was the one factor he could not account for. If Nagini had not been with him, they would have withdrawn.

"I believe so, my Lord," Snape answered gravely, clicking the coin in his pocket to send the message to the others. "The portraits have alerted me."

"Where is he?"

"He was spotted near the great hall," Snape told him, rising. Shall we go there together, my Lord?"

"Lead the way, Severus," the Dark Lord agreed, his lips curling up into a ghastly smile. "I shall call a few others to help."

Snape, bowing, lead the way to the cafeteria. His sharp eyes caught no sign of those he knew lay in wait for them, and he found himself fingering his wand. He knew he had agreed to Lupin stunning him right away to take him out of the battle, but it was still hard to allow it to happen. He knew he needed to do it, however, because if the battle went poorly they would still need him as a spy. At least it wasn't that bloody mutt doing it.

"Are you sure he's here?" Lord Voldemort asked with a hiss. "I hate to be sent on a fool's errand."

"He's here," Snape assured him, removing his wand. "But he has that bloody invisibility cloak."

"Shouldn't Hogwarts tell you her secrets?" Lord Voldemort hissed.

"She doesn't yet recognize me as the headmaster," Snape answered tightly, as if this annoyed him. "It will happen in time, my Lord." He did not bother to add that Hogwarts was following his lead, and he did not consider himself the real headmaster as well.

"Perhapsss . . . " the Dark Lord started.

"Stupefy!" Snape heard the cast, saw the flash of light, and felt himself fall to the floor as a result. It had been a matter of less than a second that he had to resist shielding, but it was enough to let himself be taken. Though he couldn't move, he felt the scale-covered skin of Nagini brush past him as she rounded her master. He couldn't help but shiver in response – he had always had a feeling that Nagini would be the death of him.

Voldemort cast back towards the attack, but not being able to see the attacker made him unsure and miss. The light blue light of a shield glowed briefly as a stunning spell hit, and Voldemort crowed as Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy appeared beside them.

"We are here, my Lord," Malfoy acknowledged, slightly out of breath.

"Give chase!" Voldemort ordered as the object with the shield was quite obviously fleeing from him. "It's Potter!"

The three did give chase, each with their wand out and following down the hallway. Bellatrix cursed internally at having to use the borrowed wand she had after that horrid little witch had unwanded her. Fifty feet down there was another series of flashes, and Malfoy stiffened, falling victim to another stunning spell. Ron gleefully had the man wrapped in chains in a blink, and then turned his attention to Bella, who had shielded from the spell.

"If it isn't one of the Weasleys," she spat at him, her wicked smile curling up at the side.

"Kill him," Voldemort ordered her. "It's the Potter brat we're after."

But before she could utter the words, Ron had disappeared.

"What?" Bella asked. "He can't apparate!"

"Never mind that now," Voldemort ordered. "Let's find Potter! Others are coming."

Snape lost sight of them then, but gained sight of Minerva and Filius. They began carefully crafting the shield that would prevent more death eaters from joining the party. Without so much as a glance at the inert form of the current headmaster, Minerva swept through the hallway with brisk efficiency.

"He'll be safe," she whispered towards him. "And Filius and I will keep everyone else out."

Snape closed his eyes, hoping she spoke the truth. For from now on fate was truly in control, and the fates had not been kind to Severus Snape.

Meanwhile, Voldemort continued to chase the figure down the hallway, and then into a strange doorway of some kind. Tom Riddle had prided himself on knowing all of the secrets of Hogwarts, but what was that room the figure was going into? Could it be the room that had appeared and let him hide the diadem so long ago?

"It could be a trap," Bellatrix warned him as they approached the entrance.

"Of course it is," Voldemort hissed at her. "But how could they possibly overpower us? Dumbledore is gone, there's nobody left to inspire any fear at all. What, are you afraid of Molly Weasley? You in first."

Bellatrix obeyed, and they crept in the doorway to see what was in there.

"Where are the others?" Bellatrix asked. "They should be here by now."

Voldemort didn't answer, but twitched. "Nagini," he ordered. "Leave."

Nagini didn't leave, however, and looked up at his master.

"Anti-apparition wards," Bellatrix whispered, looking around.

"Let's go back, then," he said, and then turned to see the door missing. This was not the friendly room that had hid his secrets before, this was very different.

"What is this room?" Bella asked, looking around. She could see the mirrors on the walls, the arches, and the mats on the floor. It looked like a training room.

"This is the room where you lose," Harry's voice cut through the air.

"Harry Potter!" Voldemort seethed. "Show yourself!"

"I am here," Harry said, showing himself, wand drawn.

"Imagine you waiting here for me," Voldemort hissed. "How . . . convenient."

"It sure is, Tom," Harry answered. "I wanted to face you once and for all, and not create some huge war where people get killed. Just you and me."

"As you wish," Voldemort hissed, his lips drawn back in a ghastly smile.

"Expelliarmus!" Lupin called, aiming his curse at Bella.

Bella was ready for him, however, and blocked.

The battle began, Lupin engaging Bellatrix, and spells flying hard and fast. Nagini, knowing how important it was for her to survive, started to look for a way out. She nudged along the floorboards, finding a crack she could wriggle into. Then, near where they had come in, she found a small crack. It was just big enough for her, and she could tell by the scent that it led to the outside. Joyfully, she squeezed into the crack and away from the spells flying. She knew how important it was for her to live. She saw the light! Even if she couldn't disapparate she could at least get away.

The joy Nagini felt in poking her head through the opening was cut short abruptly as the sword of Gryffindor swung in an arc, severing her head from the rest of her body. Her head twisted violently as it fell to the earth, dissolving in an explosion of black smoke. Neville picked up the sword of Gryffindor, and hefting it, and smiled at his partner.

"That's the end of that," Hermione answered him, tapping the coin in her pocket three times. "Tom Riddle is now mortal."

Coins in everyone's pockets began a steady hum and began spinning in their pockets, loud and moving enough to be heard over the fight. They all knew now that Nagini was gone and Voldemort could now be killed.

"It's just you and me now, Tom," Harry told him, balancing his wand lightly in his hand. "The way it was meant to be."

"You are a whelp," Voldemort hissed. "A child. How could you possibly challenge me?"

"Well, you've tried several times now and I seem to still be breathing," Harry smirked. "Tom, I beat you when I was a baby."

With a roar of anger, Voldemort attacked, and the light of their magics met and fought together, raining down sparks on the other inhabitants of the room. Bella fought a desperate attack against Lupin, but the werewolf concentrated and dodged. He levitated stone to block a killing curse, and countered with a binding spell, which she blocked. On a normal day Lupin wasn't sure if he could beat Bella or not, but on this day with her not having her wand he could feel her vulnerability. He kept at her, and he could see her mounting frustration.

Harry and Voldemort's magic broke, and they both fell backwards, panting. Harry felt the power drain from him in that engagement, and he could tell that he would be simply continuing what they had done so many times if he continued like this. Keeping his eye on the recovering Voldemort, he reached for the object strapped to his leg.

"The elder wand!" Voldemort exclaimed, his voice full of surprise and lust. "I have searched . . ."

"Search over," Harry answered. "I won it from Dumbledore himself."

"You cannot defeat me, child," Voldemort spat at him. "You just give me an even better prize on my victory."

"Then take it from me," Harry answered, holding it firmly. "Expelliarmus!"

The spell nearly took Voldemort's wand, and they both felt the increased power. For just a moment, for the first time in years, Voldemort felt the faintest ripple of fear. Could this teenager actually best the greatest dark lord that ever lived?

Fueled by the unfamiliar fear, Voldemort yelled, "Crucio!" at Harry.

The Cruciatus, being an unforgivable curse, was of course not able to be blocked. But Harry did shield as he saw it coming, hoping for the best. The spell weakened as it passed through the shield, landing on Harry with the strength of a stinging hex.

"Ouch!" Harry exclaimed, rubbing the spot where it hit.

"Ouch?" Voldemort echoed, and then they both looked at each other. They both knew that Harry should be writhing on the floor in pain, not rubbing a painful spot. The elder wand could block unforgivable curses.

"Avada Cadavra!" Voldemort yelled with all of his might, aiming at Harry with all the passion he could muster.

Harry, ready for him, instead of just blocking the curse focused on the idea of reflecting the curse back to Voldemort. The green light of the killing curse hit his shield and passed through, and the world around him grew black.


	34. Chapter 34 - Ending It

_AN: And so another story draws to a close. I'm sorry that the last chapter was such a cliffhanger, I figured people would see the pattern from earlier that I was trying to mirror here._ _J_ _It feels perhaps a bit cheesy to wrap up the story with so little death, but since this is fanfiction I get to indulge my own fantasies. And this is truly how I wished it had ended._

 _If you like my work, check out "The Boomslang Thief" which is a murder mystery set during 4_ _th_ _year._

 _Thank you again for all the tremendous support I have received from loyal readers. It has meant a great deal to me._

Harry blinked his eyes open, looking at the early morning light streaming in the window. He looked over to the chair beside his bed, and saw the inert form of Severus Snape. Harry smiled when he observed the man curled up uncomfortably, knowing that the man could easily have transfigured the chair into a cot for himself. Harry remembered the time he had done the same thing when Snape had been in the infirmary after being blasted by Sirius. Smiling, Harry knew it was for the same reason he had been on the chair – he felt guilty and he loved Harry. Harry then noticed something else for the first time – stubble. How long had he been out?

"Harry?" he heard Madame Pomfrey greet him. "I have a spell that tells me when you wake up. How are you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess," he answered, though he did feel dizzy. "What happened?"

"You lived," Snape told him, blinking sleep away. "Though I did believe that I told you that any death or injury could be punishable."

"I don't feel injured!" Harry protested with a smile. He knew Snape didn't mean it.

"You took a killing curse," Snape told him. "Apparently the elder wand was able to shield enough of it, and perhaps your mother's spell is still active as well. So that, despite your best efforts, you managed to survive to face my wrath."

"Tom Riddle is dead," Harry told him with certainty. "We won."

"How do you possibly know that?" Snape asked him, raising an eyebrow.

"I saw Dumbledore," Harry answered simply. "We had a chat."

"A chat?" Snape asked, incredulous. "Did you tell the old man that he needed to stop wasting away and come back?"

"He said you'd say that," Harry grinned. "He said to tell you that he's enjoying his rest-cure and will be back within a few weeks."

"I'm sure he is," Snape smirked. "He missed the big show, as it were."

"How long have I been out?" Harry asked, not wanting to look Snape in the face. It felt uncomfortable to ask, as he was sure Snape was there the whole time.

"Three days," Snape answered. "Poppy said you would be fine, that you only took a small part of the killing curse."

"I even predicted three days being unconscious," she replied primly, smirking at the potions master. "You could have at least showered."

"I wanted to be here," he answered firmly in a voice that brooked no opposition.

"Dumbledore said that Tom died," Harry repeated. "That he dissolved into a million dark pieces and just . . . came apart."

"There was not much left of him without the horcruxes," Snape answered solemnly. "The killing curse he aimed at you reflected back to him. Bella realized what happened a second later, and in her despair Lupin was able to attack. She joined her master moments later in death."

"Lucius Malfoy?"

"Never escaped the bind Weasley put him in and is now awaiting trial," Snape nodded. "The ministry is focused on rounding up the remaining death eaters, although many of them have fled to parts unknown. The tide has, shall we say, turned. Rumor is that Shacklebolt will be the minister within the month."

"Casualties from our side?" Harry asked softly. He knew to expect some, they had taken down Voldemort after all. He felt guilty praying that it wasn't Ron and Hermione, because he didn't want to lose anyone.

"I'm afraid there has been one," Snape told him solemnly. "One of the twins lost an ear."

"An ear?"

"Caught by a stray cutting curse during the kerfuffle," Snape nodded with a sigh. "I suppose that means that I will have to actually learn to tell them apart now."

"Hermione? Ron?" he asked, breathless.

"Completely fine," Snape confirmed. "And anxious to see you. I told them if they came here before they had a decent breakfast today that I could easily conjure a paddle."

"You wouldn't!" Harry laughed in relief.

"I most certainly would," Snape sniffed.

"It's done then," Harry nodded, laying back.

"It is," Snape acknowledged. "And with remarkably little loss of life. Although perhaps you can tell me why you tried to block a killing curse with just a shield charm? We have gone over how to dodge them, and that was not one of the approved methods."

"He tried to crucio me," Harry explained. "And though it came through the shield, it was only a little pain, like a stinging hex. So I figured I could shield a killing curse too, and I focused on wanting to reflect it back. The elder wand understood what I wanted."

"It did, did it?" Snape rasped, trying to remind himself that Harry was indeed alive. He couldn't believe the fool lived. "Foolhardy."

"But it worked!" Harry protested. "You can't punish me for what worked."

"I most certainly can if the fact that your survival was simply dumb luck," Snape growled at him, but they both knew there was no bite to it.

"So is it the cane then?" Harry asked, cheeky. "Six of the best?"

Snape's mouth twitched at the boy, wondering how he could have wormed his way into his heart so thoroughly.

"I'm afraid it's much worse than that," Snape answered gravely. "I'm afraid I'm forced to administer a hug."

"Truly dreadful," Harry answered, and found himself enveloped in potion-scented robes. He felt himself being pressed firmly to Snape's chest, and reveled in the closeness. And then he knew it was truly over, and Snape had been right. They could now live in peace.

"Now I have quite a few nasty potions to give you," Snape told him, ending the hug with a squeeze to Harry's hand. "You may wish you had stayed with Dumbledore."

"If I tell him you're handing out potions he won't come back," Harry smiled, his heart full to overflowing, but still grimacing at the coming potions. "Not the dirty sock one?"

"That one will evoke fond memories when I'm done with you," Snape informed him. "Imagine the cheek of surviving a killing curse from Voldemort again."

"You used his name," Harry marveled.

"No reason not to," Snape told him, rifling through his potion vials. "He's truly gone, Harry."

And he was.

The End.


End file.
